Eighteen Months
by Istalindar
Summary: When Hermione is diagnosed with a magic allergy and kidney failure during the summer, everything changes for her, friends, enemies..life. Note: I don't know a lot about kidney failure so if I offend someone or get it wrong, please tell me and I'll do wha
1. Chapter 1

"It's not really my shade." Hermione said apologetically to the woman at the counter. She always felt bad turning these women down, she felt guilty, despite her best efforts not to.

"Come on Hermione." Her mother took her arm, dragging her away. Hermione's stomach twinged and she winced.

"Mum! Easy on the painful ovaries, will ya? I'm practically falling apart here."

"Coming onto your period, are you? Well, at least you're not pregnant. Not like Susan across the road. You know, she's six months gone and her boyfriends up and gone to Thailand, apparently to – are you alright, sweetie?"

"This really hurts." Hermione said, wrapping her arms around her stomach and bending forward a little.

"Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me? Oh my god, Hermione!" Hermione vaguely felt herself fall onto her knees, curling into a ball on the floor. "Someone get help! Hold on Hermione, sweetpea! Hold on baby…"

&

Hermione came aware slowly, her eyes inching open. They quickly shut against the bright lights and white surroundings.

"She's waking. Someone get the doctor." Hermione frowned. What was going on? And why did she need a doctor?

"Miss Granger? Can you hear me?" Hermione forced her eyes open again, blinking against the bright lights and white walls. "How do you feel?"

"Tired…and everything's so bright." She said. Her voice was hoarse, and her throat sore.

"You're in St Mary's hospital, in accident and emergency. Do you remember any of what happened?"

"My stomach hurt really badly, it started off kinda like period cramps…I'm due soon, but then got a lot worse, and then I guess I blacked out."

"Right. Could you be pregnant, Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm still a virgin, doctor…" She said drily.

"Whales. Dr Whales."

"Right. Well, no, I couldn't be pregnant."

"Okay. Can you tell me where it hurt?"

"Here, and here." Hermione pressed against her lower abdomen. "And the same places on my back as well."

"Do you know if your family has a history of kidney problems?" Hermione shrugged.

"No…do you think there's something wrong with my kidneys?"

"I don't know yet Miss Granger, but we'll have to do some tests. Is there anything you're allergic to…any medical problems I should know about?"

"Don't you have my doctor's records?" Hermione asked. Dr Whales shook his head.

"We're getting them…but our email's down so they've got to arrive by courier or snail-mail. Either way, they're not here yet. That's why I'm asking."

"Well, as far as I know…I'm allergic to mushrooms. Other than that, I'm pretty sure I'm clear of just about everything."

"Good. Well, Miss Granger, we're going to take a blood sample and a urine sample, and then we'll see how it goes. If you'll just let Crissa here take some samples we'll do some tests and see what we come up with." Dr Whales nodded to her before ducking behind the curtain and disappearing.

Hermione lay back and closed her eyes. Something wrong with her kidneys…her advanced biology wasn't brilliant but she knew that kidneys were vital…and that the waiting list for transplants was miles long. But hopefully it wouldn't come to that. It was probably just an infection, or something similar. She wriggled slightly, grimacing at the pain at her stomach.

"Okay, Miss Granger, lets get a urine sample, and then we can see what's wrong with you." The nurse chirped. Hermione grimaced, not entirely from pain, before getting off the bed and stumbling slightly. Crissa caught her and supported her, and together they made their way to the toilets. On the way, Hermione passed her mother and a stranger who walked by her side.

"Hermione, honey! You remember your Uncle Sam?" Hermione frowned and looked down to see a flash of smooth wood at his side, his wand.

"Of course." Hermione lied. "What are you doing here?"

"Just came to check up on you is all."

"Excuse me, but visiting time isnt for another twenty minutes, so if you'll excuse us…" Crissa guided Hermione past her mother and the wizard into the toilets. Hermione shivered in the cool air of the lavatories and was greatful when Crissa finally declared the sample in good condition, and helped her out of the cold toilets.

Hermione was barely back in her bed before her mother and 'Uncle Sam' appeared.

"Hey honey!" Her mother said brightly. Hermione smiled slightly for her benefit. "Your Uncle Sam found this after you fell, and gave it to me along with his number just before the ambulance came. He's a doctor…you know, _your_ kind of doctor."

"Actually, I'm everyone's kind of doctor, although I do have some advantages." 'Sam' grinned, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back. He was cute in a 'he's old enough to be my dad' kind of way. Like Johnny Depp, or George Clooney. "I'm just going to find out what's wrong with you, okay?"

"Go right ahead." Hermione shrugged, and Sam muttered a few words before gesturing with his wand. A small glowing sphere detached it'self from the end of his wand and disappeared into her abdomen, leaving a trail of burning pain behind it that made Hermione squeeze her eyes shut in pain. When it faded, she opened her eyes and glared accusingly at the doctor.

"Ow!" She complained. "Was that meant to hurt that bad? Because I could have done with a warning."

"You shouldn't have felt anything at all." Sam said, looking confused. "Do you mind if I do one more spell? Just to test a hypothesis."

"Will it hurt?"

"If I'm right, then maybe a little. But if I'm not, then you shouldn't feel a thing."

"What's your hypothesis?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Do you mind if I check it first?" Hermione sighed, but nodded. "Fire away." Again Sam muttered a phrase under his breath and waved his wand, and a wave of icy agony rolled over Hermione, and she could feel her body convulsing under the strain of it. When it finally passed, Hermione looked up into the apologetic eyes of the doctor.

"Well? I take it your hypothesis was proved right. What's your diagnosis on me?"

"Well, I'm afraid it's all bad news." Hermione nodded.

"Go on."

"Well, you're allergic to magic."

"What? But I go to Hogwarts! I can't be allergic to magic!"

"You can and you are. But it shouldn't affect your ability to perform magic. It just means there could possibly be some serious consequences to having magic performed on you. Depending on the strength of the spell, and whether it's actually aimed at you or not, the effects could range from just nausea to collapse."

"What do you mean, if it's aimed at me or not?"

"Well, say if…if something got spilled on your top. If someone used magic to clean it up…it might only make you sick. But if someone tried to do a spell on you…say levitation or something like that, then it might affect you more strongly. For every individual the amount magic affects them is different."

"Okay. So what's the other bad news?" Hermione asked. He frowned, and she nodded encouragement. "I can take it. Just tell me."

"You have acute kidney failure, in both your kidneys. There are muggle practises that can be used to treat the problem, like dialysis for example, but even with that, and assuming you stay in perfect health, which is, unfortunately, doubtful, you-"

"You're not saying she's going to die!" Mrs Granger exclaimed, grabbing his wrist. "She's not going to die!"

"I will eventually, mum." Hermione said calmly, internally annoyed at her mum for interrupting. "Let him finish."

"My best estimate on your lifespan would be…a year. A year and a half at most." Hermione sank back in the pillows, feeling oddly calm and worryingly empty. She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"A year and a half at most, then." She laughed softly. "I'll be dead before I'm nineteen."

"No you won't!" Mrs Granger cried. "We'll find a way. Between magic and modern technology, there's got to be a way to keep you alive. What about the philosopher's stone? You told me it kept that Nicholas man alive for over six hundred years. We could use that!"

"It was destroyed six years ago, mum." Hermione said with a smile. Her mum carried on regardless.

"Or unicorn blood! You told me it would bring you back from the brink of death!"

"And damn you for eternity. I'll pass, thanks."

"There's got to be a way!"

"Miss Granger? Ah, I see you have guests." Dr Whales smiled around at everyone. "Well, I hate to cut visiting time short, but I have your test results and –"

"Dr Whales, this is my Mum and my Uncle Sam. They can hear this." Hermione smiled at Whales.

"Right then. Well, the results have come back and it appears that you have some severe problems with your kidneys. A few more tests will have to be run, but on the basis of what these tests have told us, I'll have to say that your chances don't look good."

"But there must be something!" Mrs Granger cried, grabbing his arm. "Please! You have to help her!"

"We'll do our best, Mrs Granger, but science can only go so far."

"So what do you think? Are we down to life-expectancy badness yet? Or are you still checking things out?" Hermione asked. Dr Whales looked slightly surprised at her question. Hermione smiled. "I'm a big girl now, Doctor. I think I can take what you can dish out."

"On the basis of these tests, and the preliminary tests we have already started running, I'd say the damage is severe enough it could limit you life to within the next five years or so."

"You can tell that from just preliminary tests? Wow." Hermione smiled weakly.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, Mrs Granger."

"No, it's okay." Hermione answered. It's not your fault. And we'll just have to work something out."

"You're being very brave, Miss Granger." Dr Whales said, before slipping through the gap in the curtains and disappearing.

&

So tell me if you like it, please. I know I've been away for absolutely ages, but I've been writing in my absence, so I'll do my best to update as soon as I can. Next time will probably been Christmas, but that's in only a month (yay!) so you won't, hopefully, have too long to wait. I will also do my utmost to keep writing the unfinished stories I already have up, like Leoli and my many Harry Potter fics, which I started and never finished. Until then, I hope this will tide you over, so enjoy! Istalindar.


	2. Chapter 2

That's it till February, folks. Sorry, I tried to get as much of it up as I could…in fact, this is as much as I can get up, cuz its as much as I have. Work in progress…joy. I'm boarding in a silly place without internet access, and even with the college and library computers, I cant update, unfortunartely, so you'll just have to bear with me on this one. I'm glad you like it, and just stick around for two months and I'll get you some more. And I promise I'll work on it during my internet-deprived time. Have a great new year, and thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who's reviewed…normally I name people who've reviewed, but since I cant at the moment…THANKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Istalindar

P.S

I apologise for putting up so many chapters at once. for those of you who have me on author alert, I know from experience how piss-annoying it is when someone puts up a zillion updates and fills up your email. But I only did it as the entire 2-month worth of updates all at the same time. See you in February.

P.P.S

But I can still receive reviews…using library computers that wont let me update. sulk so keep reviewing!!!!


	3. Chapter 3

Here's your Christmas fix! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate everything, including the criticism, especially if it makes me think about what I'm writing in more detail. I've not updated everything, because most things are WIP and I have a life, however limited it may be, so stick with me and you might even get two updates this break! I hope you like this, and as always, if you have any comments, please review. I know I don't know an awful lot about kidney failure so if I start talking rubbish just tell me and I'll do what I can to fix it. Have a brilliant Christmas and New Year everyone. Istalindar

&

"Very brave my ass." Hermione grumbled. She raised herself painstakingly into a sitting position, mindful of the tubes around her and the needle in her arm. "Stupid-ass kidneys."

The ward was quiet. It was more of a hallway than a ward, really, connecting the broken bones ward and the X-ray room. Not the most logical of places to have the Renal ward, but that's how it was. Damn the NHS and it's weird and totally illogical structure.

"Pfft." Hermione muttered under her breath, reaching for her book. It was one of the ones from her booklist for her seventh year at Hogwarts. Her mum had brought the lot when she found out Hermione had to stay in for observation, and Hermione was sucking her way through them. Her fingers brushed the spine, and then the book toppled off the table.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, staring dolefully at the book on the floor. She watched as someone picked it up and looked up into the face of a blonde girl with a broken arm, holding out her book.

"You shouldn't swear like that, you know. There are children on this ward. And is it safe to be reading that here? I tried to bring mine in but dad wouldn't let me. Said it would impeach wizarding security."

"Oh my god." Hermione said, realising who her book's rescuer was. "Parkinson?"

"And you are?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh dear lord it's you." Pansy pressed her unbroken hand to her heart dramatically.

"What are you doing here? Magic can cure broke bones in like minutes! And you're here wandering around with a cast on!"

"My dad. He's a doctor and he's all like…I wanna see how muggles do it. It's hugely boring, not to mention incredibly convenient. Fortunately for me, I get to take the cast off at night."

"You mean your arm's not really broken?"

"Well, no. Not strictly speaking."

"Do you realise how long the queues are for hospital beds? And you're taking one up with a phony broken arm?"

"Easy Granger. It's all in the name of research. Dad needs to know…sometimes skelegrow doesn't work so he's having to resort to muggle methods."

"I wouldn't have thought your dad would have touched a muggle with a ten-foot barge pole. Speaking of which, I wouldn't have thought you would either."

"Well…actually. God I've been dying to tell someone, but with the people I hang around with it's just not an option, you know? So you promise you won't tell? And if I tell you why I'm here you can tell me why you're here."

"Since when do you care?"

"Since I'm bored outta my skull…and…okay. I'mahalfblood." She rushed the last part and bit her lip nervously waiting for Hermione's response. Hermione merely raised her eyebrows. "So?"

"So what?"

"Aren't you going to make a big deal of it?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Well, it'd be gratifying. But…well, the reason I told you is I was wondering if…well, wondering what was wrong with you." Hermione dropped her eyebrows but smirked slightly at the change of subject.

"I'm lying here waiting to die." She said flatly.

"God, I know what you mean. Lying bored in a hospital bed you feel like you could die. But what's wrong with you?"

Hermione met Pansy stare for stare and then Pansy inhaled sharply. "Omg, I'm so sorry. Now I feel so insensitive!"

"You feel insensitive?"

"It's a new feeling. I'm still getting used to it."

"Right. So why the sudden bout of niceness?"

"Well, since I found out I was…you know, I've been spending time with my real dad. And he kinda inspires feelings in people. Like feeling insensitive. Guilt's another new one. You know, I actually felt guilty for cheating on my boyfriend for almost an entire five minutes before I broke my arm? I nearly died from the shock of it. Instead I just broke my arm."

"Sounds tragic." Hermione said, shaking her head solemnly.

"Don't be a cow. This is hard for me. I never had to feel anything before, and now it's like I'm flooded."

"Sweetie, you didn't meet your dad. You had a personality transplant. That's what your trouble is."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You know, I actually had the urge to owl Draco the other day and say sorry for nearly killing his former girlfriend?"

"Draco? As in Malfoy? And you nearly killed his girlfriend?"

"Former." Pansy corrected. "She decided she couldn't date a guy whose exes were that psycho. I don't think I'm psycho. Just a little…enthused."

"What did you do to her?"

"Put spiders in her bed and pinned the body parts of her precious doll collection to her bed and smeared red paint where all the joints were."

"Bloody hell, Pansy!" Hermione exclaimed. "Don't you think that's a little much?"

"Well, I was still bitter then. Now I just find it amusing."

"But that hardly killed her. What did you do that nearly killed her?"

"I pushed her down the stairs but then they moved and she nearly fell down the entire stair tower."

"Pansy!" Hermione exclaimed, laughing.

"Oh, come on! She was cheating on Draco with Harry, for crying out loud!"

"Gotta credit her for taste." Hermione pointed out.

"Oh, please. Draco, yes. But Harry's so…arrogant, I guess."

"And Draco's not?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Draco knows he is and will admit it freely. Harry's so full of himself and so sure he's right and that he's doing the right thing. He doesn't know he's being arrogant and bigheaded. Sure, he had luck facing Voldemort, and destroying him last year was nothing short of a miracle. But it's not because he's clever, or capable…but because he's pigheadedly stubborn and suicidally brave. The only reason he beat Voldemort is because Potter's got everything to live for and Voldemort had sod-all."

"What's wrong with world domination?" Hermione asked honestly.

"The same thing that's wrong with immortality. Bloody brilliant until you realise you have to spend it alone."

"Next you'll be telling me that Voldemort was just a little boy hoping to be loved."

"Well, I was hoping she'd be saying nothing of the sort." Sam stood at the foot of the bed and both girls looked up.

"Dad." Pansy smiled. "How's it going?"

"Tiring. What are you doing out of bed, Pansy?"

"My arms broken, dad. I'm not incapacitated."

"Lucky cow." Hermione muttered. Pansy shot her a sympathetic glance.

"You girls know each other from school, then?" Sam asked. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah. Same year, different house."

"Yeah…I heard about that. Gryffindor verses Slytherin, huh? Tough competition."

"Favouritism doesn't help us either." Pansy sniffed.

"Oh please. Like Snape isnt so biased in your favour that a wrong look from a Gryffindor won't get us a detention."

"Snape doesn't run the school! Unlike some lucky Gryffindor's patron, our exalted headmaster!" Pansy shot back.

"Okay, girls. Calm down now. I actually came over to tell Hermione it's time for dialysis."

"For what?"

"Blood cleaning." Hermione filled in, even as she was wheeled away. Pansy jogged after them to catch them up. "My kidneys don't work and so I have to have a machine do it for me."

"Cool. Does it hurt?"

"Would it make your day if I said yes?" Hermione grinned.

"Harsh, honey." Pansy tutted. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm afraid that apart from that little prick of sticking a needle in my hand, it's pretty much pain-free."

"I'm going to withold my opinion at this moment in time." Pansy smiled. "Maybe I won't. Doesn't taking all your blood out hurt?"

"Not much. Certainly not as much as breaking your arm." Sam said, dropping hints like anvils. "Why don't you go back to the breaks ward?"

"I wanna see what happens!" Pansy protested.

"Pansy…"

"No, it's cool. I don't mind."

"So you guys are close friends then?" Sam asked as they walked down the hall. "I thought house rivallry prevented that."

"It does." Hermione shrugged. "We've been civil to each other for all of um…two hours."

"She's not too bad when she's not being a bitch."

"Says you."

"Says me indeedly. I do say it I do." Pansy chirped.

"Pansy."

"Hm?"

"You can shut up now." Hermione said flatly.

"Right then."

"Yes. Please."

"Okay. God, can't say anything in this place." Pansy huffed and crossed her arms.

"You're still talking."

Pansy stuck her tongue out at Hermione who grinned.

"Okay girls. Let's be nice here. Hermione, arms please."

"There ya go." She stuck her arms out in front of her like a zombie.

"Thanks." He stuck the needles in her arms and turned on the machine and the precious red liquid started leaving her body. He walked to the door, but stopped and turned back just inside.

"Girls, be nice."

"Yes daddy." Pansy chimed, and Sam rolled his eyes and left. "So. Kidney problems, huh? That why you're in hospital?" Pansy said, continuing the previous conversation.

"That'd be a reason. I collapsed while shopping a week or so ago and I've been here ever since."

"Ouchie. Any other issues?"

"Only one."

"Well, tell. I told you my big secret."

"It's hardly a secret if you tell every non-pureblood that comes along."

"Hermione!"

"Fine. I'm allergic to magic. So basically if anyone does magic on me my entire nervous system goes spastic on me."

"Does it hurt?"

"Um…yeah."

"No need to be snippy. I was only asking. So how're you gonna manage at school? People do magic on other people all the time."

"I guess I'll just get a shield or something. All the teachers will probably find out, so they'll be able to, I don't know, make allowances or something like that."

"Maybe. Although I know one teacher who won't make allowances."

"I think if he did I'd fall over dead from shock, to be perfectly honest."

"And we're trying to keep you alive here."

"Precisely."

There was silence for a moment as both girls just and watched the blood flow through the tubes.

"Funny, how something so small can mean something so important." Pansy commented.

"Besides biologically, blood doesn't mean anything at all. It's not about being pureblood or not or whatever. Your blood's as red and runny as mine is."

"Though maybe a little cleaner."

"Quite possibly."

"So technically you could accurately be called a mudblood now."

"Don't even try it."

"Mudblood."

"You see, that's just low."

"I'm only being truthful."

"Well, you can stop now." Hermione rolled her eyes, and Pansy mockingly copied the gesture. Sam came in and gestured to Pansy.

"Terribly sorry dahling." Pansy said with a smirk. "I gotta go get me bone checked, so I'll come back and talk to you later, ok?"

"What if I don't want to talk to you later?"

"Tough. See ya later sweetheart." Pansy walked off, leaving Hermione and Sam alone in the dialysis room.

"So how are we going to manage dialysis at school and on the train?" Hermione asked eventually.

"Dumbledore has arranged for a dialysis machine to be brought with you to Hogwarts. It'll be on the train so you can have dialysis then, and after that it'll be put into Madame Pomfrey's care, and she'll help you use it."

"Won't it be completely different from anything she's ever used before? I mean, I realise you specialise in muggle medicine, but does Madame Pomfrey as well?"

"No, she doesn't. And what I do could hardly be called specialised. I'll stay at the school for a while just to ensure she's got the hang of using the dialysis machine, before returning here. I have some sick leave saved up, so that won't be a problem." Hermione nodded.

"Right. But…what about food and stuff like that? I'd rather not broadcast my condition to the entire school."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Trust me, the last thing I need is to feed the others real reason to call me a mudblood."

"They wouldn't call you that anyway."

"Oh, they would. They do. They have done since first year. I'd rather just keep it to innocent taunts rather than malicious accuracy, if you don't mind."

"Fair enough, although you will have to tell them about your magic allergy."

"I'd rather not."

"Because…"

"Because again, it would only give them an excuse to throw random hexes at me."

"But if they know-"

"Teenage magic students living the life that they do find it amusing when someone is in more pain than they are."

"Shouldn't you talk to Dumbledore about this?"

"He knows. But there isnt an awful lot he can do. If he expelled every student who hexed someone else maliciously, then there wouldn't be anyone left to teach at Hogwarts."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Have you never, ever done a malicious hex, just because you were in a foul mood?"

"Well, I have, I suppose." Sam said grudgingly.

"So have I. It's nothing to be ashamed about, I guess it's just natural. Like hitting Draco Malfoy was just natural when he insulted my friends for the zillionth time. It might be a form of stress release."

"People who use that as a form of stress relief are the people we usually send to join the army."

"Perhaps."

"You're done here, I'll take you back but then I'll have to leave you there."

"I'm sure I'll manage on that big ward all by my ickle self." Hermione said, pulling a face.

"Good good. Let's get you back there then." Sam unhooked the dialysis and wheeled Hermione back into the ward.

&

A week or so later, Hermione was being wheeled back into the ward when she saw a stiff upright figure sat in the cubicle where her bed usually was.

"Professor!" She called, grinning. Professor McGonagall whirled, and smiled when she saw Hermione. Hermione grinned wider when she saw what McGonagall was wearing; a forest green tweed suit, tights and court shoes. She looked very…Scottish. Like the housekeeper in The Secret Garden. Only more modern, in an uptight Scottish office person kind of way. Maybe there were too many Scottish's in there.

"How are you Miss Granger?"

"Not too bad, considering." Hermione answered with a shrug. "How are you?"

"Quite well, thank you. We heard about your condition and are already making arrangements."

"That's good at least. So it shouldn't interfere with anything?"

"Not as far as we can foresee."

"But what about my allergy? If I can't have magic performed on me…"

"Well, this is the tricky bit. I heard you didn't want to tell anyone."

"No."

"Well, short of saying straight off that you've got a magic allergy there isnt an awful lot we can say to prevent magic being done on you, so you're best bet is probably to tell you're closest friends and then have them keep an eye on you."

"I don't want a champion, Professor. I'm allergic, not an invalid."

"I understand that, Miss Granger, although if you're not careful you could end up an invalid, and we're only trying to prevent that."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…well. It occurred to me that this is the last thing I need happening to me." McGonagall frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well…being the star pupil hasn't exactly won me any prizes, you know. Not friendship wise, anyway."

"What are you talking about? You and Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are inseparable."

"Were inseparable. They've gone and got themselves girlfriends and I'm a thing of the past." Hermione laughed. "Kinda funny, actually, I suppose. I really can't imagine them kissing anyone."

"I thought you and Mr Weasley…"

"Never. He's so much like my brother it would be too gross. But they were my only real friends you know, and they've gone their separate ways. They want to be aurors, live the high life. Me…I want to study. Maybe do research into medicine. I've got theories…but I guess Ron and Harry expected me to be an auror like them, and when I told them that that wasn't my plan, they started, I don't know, _distancing_ themselves. And now…well. I havent heard from them all summer, but I know Harry's at the Burrow."

"Have you made any effort to seal this rift?" McGonagall asked. Hermione sighed and shrugged, shaking her head slightly.

"Not really. I mean, I sent a couple of letters at the beginning of the holidays, and then a birthday card for  
Harry just before I…collapsed, but I've not heard anything back from any of them, though I did get a letter from Ginny shortly after I sent the first letter."

"And what about her? I thought you two were close."

"We were…are still, I suppose. But we have so little in common – she's into boys and makeup and fashion and I'm more research-girl than anything else. But…I suppose I have one friend-"

"I am honoured and delighted by your admission, research-girl."

"Who said I was talking about you?" Hermione shot back. McGonagall turned around, looking slightly miffed, although that expression changed to surprise when she saw Pansy Parkinson, dressed in tight jeans and a body hugging blue tee, her 'broken' arm in a sling.

"Miss Parkinson! What are you doing here?"

"Same question back atcha Professor. Nah, I'm here because I broke my arm and I'm experimenting with muggle healing techniques. So far, it's slow. And did I mention painful?"

"Oh please, Pansy. Your arm isnt even really broken." Hermione said rolling her eyes.

"True. At least I'm not bedridden."

"Neither am I! I just find it less tiring than wandering aimlessly around the hospital."

"This is your friend?" McGonagall asked in an undertone. Hermione laughed at Pansy's insulted expression.

"I realise I'm not from your prized house, professor. But that's no reason to be that mean." She pouted and McGonagall looked her over critically.

"I thought you'd be at your estate for the summer."

"Well, I would be except that my dad wanted to use me as his human guinea pig to see what happens when muggles break their arms. So I'm here instead, keeping dear old G company.

"G?"

"For Granger. Her little boyfriends nicknames used to drive me batty."

"Ah." McGonagall fell quiet, clearly disturbed by the friendship between Hogwart's slut-bitch and it's glowing golden girl.

"Don't worry bout us professor. It's all good."

"Speaking of good, Miss Granger…" The three women turned to Sam. He cleared his throat under their scrutiny. "We've got your final tests back. It seems while the estimated life span hasn't been lengthened," he paused, and Hermione nodded encouragingly, "It seems that as long as you have dialysis regularly and are careful about having magic performed on you, your condition should have no affect on your school life, or indeed your life in general."

"Miss Granger." McGonagall began in an undertone, "Are you aware of the security measures necessary-"

"Sam is a wizard." Hermione put in, and McGonagall stopped.

"Oh, well. That's alright then." Sam smiled.

"I'm Doctor Sam Williamson. Would I be wrong in thinking that you're the esteemed Professor McGonagall, the transfiguration expert?" McGonagall stood and shook his hand. Behind them, Pansy made gagging motions and Hermione grinned. Sam was certainly turning on the charm, and McGonagall was falling for it hook, line and sinker.

"I'm not sure expert would be quite the right word…"

"Come now, professor. Don't be modest. I may not have got my diploma from Hogwarts, but I have heard of your expertise at my academy in the States."

"Really?" Mcgonagall preened and Pansy sat on the chair by the head of Hermione's bed.

"Omg ewww. My dad is flirting with McGonagall. She's like, old enough to be his mother!" Hermione smiled, watching them. She coughed discreetly and the two flirts turned to face her.

"Was there anything else you needed to tell me?" she asked.

"I will accompany you to the school, so you can have dialysis on the train. After that, you'll have to report every meal time, and then just before you go to bed for dialysis. You'll have to have a special diet…school food is full of seasonings and minerals that your body simply can't handle anymore. Dumbledore said he has arranged for the houselves to charm your portion to look like the same food everyone else is eating, and as long as you don't reach for seconds, you should be alright." Sam said.

"I'm not really a seconds person, anyway."

"She's got to watch her weight, has our G." Pansy said jokingly, patting Hermione on the head.

"She will, but not because she's getting fat. Quite the opposite, actually. Limiting her diet may result in loss of weight, so she'll have to watch that, make sure she continues to ingest enough so that her body can still function. The last thing she needs is her body shutting down from lack of food." Sam said.

"Yes sir." Hermione said with a smile.

"Well then. If that's all, I suppose you can be discharged."

&


	4. Chapter 4

Second update of the holiday! I'm very proud of myself lol. I hope you like this…I might have to update the second half today as well, since it's kind of a huge section that all goes together so we'll see. Hope you like this and thanks for all the reviews!

Hermione swung her legs out of bed on the 1st of September, and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, willing the black dizziness to subside. It was becoming normal now. Out of the hospital and without her drip, Hermione was finding eating difficult. The food she could eat was bland and tasteless, and usually had to be cooked beyond recognition. Not to mention the buckets of tablets and pills she had to take to not only regulate what her kidneys should be doing but to also supply the minerals that she would be receiving from her food but for the fact she couldn't really eat a lot of things.

Pushing herself off the bed, Hermione pulled off the big t-shirt she slept in and stood in front of her floor length mirror.

"Oh my god, I look awful." She muttered, looking herself up and down.

Stood in front of the mirror in only her blue panties, she could see just how thin she had gotten. Her stomach was heavily concave, and all her ribs stuck out. Her breasts had shrunk, and her hips and knees jutted forward, pushing against the taut milky skin. There were dark circles around her eyes, and the skin of her cheeks was drawn tightly over cheekbones which had been once invisible under her plump skin before all this mess.

"Well, pfft."

"Dahling, are you up?" Hermione spun, wrapping her arms around her chest so she wasn't so exposed.

"Pansy! What have I told you about randomly sticking your head in my fireplace?" Pansy's head grinned.

Hermione's fireplace was linked up to the floo network from last year, when Ron had arranged for it to be connected so that they could visit each other easily. The boys never used it anymore, though Pansy took it upon herself to turn up at the most inopportune moments. Like now, for instance. Hermione had managed to hide her current state of emaciation from everyone by wearing baggy clothes, but it seemed that plan was shot to hell.

"Fucking hell!" Pansy exclaimed, her eyes travelling over Hermione's body. "Dad told you to eat!"

"Keep your voice down, will you? I have been, as much as I can. But there's only so much I can manage before I start literally being ill and losing everything. It's hardly my fault that I'm this thin. I mean really. Dieting is one thing…but people are going to think I'm anorexic!"

"If I didn't know what was going on I'd send you straight to hospital myself."

"I'd check myself in. I miss my drip."

"And the morphine."

"I'm afraid that's an experience you didn't share, sweetheart. No morphine for me, although my drip gave me food so I didn't end up looking like a cross between a heroine addict and Miss Food Disorder of the Year!"

"Well, as long as you are eating. Whatcha wearing today?"

"Hadnt really thought about it, to be honest."

Pansy, ever the fashion queen, rolled her eyes. "Come on, G. This is your first day of your last year at school. The beginning of the end!"

"I could well be dead before this end you speak of."

"Quite possibly. But that is no reason to be a mess. Lemme think…jeans."

"The smallest size at GAP was too big for me, since my legs have still retained their length. And the long sizes have bigger waists than is strictly necessary for me."

"You still bought them though, so wear a belt. Um…wear a tee with a zip up sweater over the top. That should hide your crane-like looks. And straighten your hair, it'll be cute."

"I don't recall asking for an outfit."

"Well, you've got one. And if you don't wear it, I'll make a scene."

"You always make a scene."

"But I'll make a scene about you, and you havent had that experience yet, and trust me, you don't want to. I go out of my way to be loud and annoying then."

"Difference being?" Hermione muttered, going to her wardrobe and grudgingly pulling out the clothes Pansy had told her to.

"Talk to you later cherie, I gotta go get money from mummy. I'll meet you on the platform at quarter to. Ciao sweetpea." Pansy's head was gone, and Hermione sighed before taking the clothes into the bathroom.

&

Twenty minutes she was showered and dressed, and sat in front of her dresser straightening her hair. She put on some makeup, mainly because Pansy would flip if she didn't, before ensuring everything was in her trunk and ready to go.

"Hermione darling! Breakfast!" Hermione went downstairs and met her mum standing in the kitchen.

"Are you feeling alright honey? You look a bit peaky."

"I always look peaky."

"True…having your hair straightened makes your face look thinner though. Anyway, come and eat."

Hermione sat herself down by the plate of unidentified pinky-grey…matter…that was meant to be her breakfast. Tasteless and with an unbelievably foul texture – smooth and slimy and generally icky, Hermione forced as much of it down as she could bear. And when she felt the familiar feeling of her stomach rebelling, she put her fork down and leaned back. Looking at the plate, she could see she'd barely eaten half of it. It was no wonder she was getting thinner.

"Are you sure you don't want anymore, love? You've not eaten very much."

"I feel a bit ill, that's all."

"As long as you're sure. We've got to leave soon though – if we're going to get to the hospital for your dialysis before we catch the train, we'll have to make tracks."

"Sure, whatever. My trunk's upstairs and ready."

"Excellent. I'll get your dad to get that in the car then." Her mum disappeared, and Hermione sat alone in the kitchen. She tried eating more, but on the third bite she felt like gaggling so she spat it out, noticing grimly that the gunk she'd spat out looked little different than the 'food' she'd put in her mouth.

"Gross." She commented to herself, before standing and wandering into the living room, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. She had barely sat down before her mother called her.

"Come on Hermione! We've not got time for you to be watching TV. We have to go, now!"

"Coming." She called back, zipping up her sweater, flicking off the TV and following her mum out to the car. Her trunk was already in the back, and her dad just shutting the hatchback.

"Have a good year sweetheart." He said, hugging her gently. "Be good and take care of yourself."

"I will, thanks dad." She got into the front seat and fastened her seatbelt, closing the door and winding down the window so she could hear her dad, who was still talking. As the car reversed down the drive, he waved.

"Love you Hermione!" He called. Hermione smiled and waved out the window.

"Love you too dad." She called back, and then they were off.

&

They arrived at Kings Cross at half past ten, and Hermione went round to the back of the car, where her mum was about to unload her trunk.

"Don't mum. Leave it in there for a second." Hermione pulled her wand out of her jacket pocket and quickly shrunk the trunk, using the clip on the end of the now-tiny trunk to fasten it to the charm bracelet around her wrist. She smiled at her mum, who looked amazed. "It's only magic, mum." She said with a shrug. Her mum gulped and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I am so proud of you. Whatever happens, remember that. I am so proud of you and I will always be proud of you and I love you so much. Stay strong for me, okay?" Hermione nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She blinked them back with effort.

"I'll be okay mum. I'll owl you as soon as I get there. And every week. Promise."

"Okay. I know you want to go by yourself, so I'll let you go." Hermione hugged her mum again, wondering morbidly if that's what she'd say at her daughter's deathbed. She shook the thought away impatiently. There'd be time enough for those thoughts when her kidneys died a permanent death.

"Okay. Love you mum. See you later." Hermione smiled and pulled herself away from her mother with effor before walking through the doors of Kings Cross and away from the teary form of her mother.

The train station was crowded, and Hermione slipped through the masses of people, glancing at her watch. 10:40. She still had plenty of time. She came to the barrier, and watched as a bunch of nervous-looking first years ran through. It wasn't the most subtle of exit's from the muggle world, but she remembered how nervous she had been as a first year and smiled at them. They were so little, so cute. And so painfully innocent. These were the first children in years who could grow up without the threat of Voldemort hanging over their heads like an eternal twelve-scroll long potions essay.

She supposed they'd get the essay soon enough.

She leaned against the barrier with a smirk, slipping effortlessly onto the wizarding platform, though the wash of magic gave her a headache. Waiting by the platform and tripping the odd snotty sixth year up was Pansy, dressed in cropped tight blue jeans, a red silk camisole and black heeled sandles. Her blonde hair, recently cut short, hung in fat curls that reached to her jawline. Overall, she looked absolutely gorgeous and Hermione felt a tight trail of jealously twist through her gut.

"Heya honey bunch. Hey, whats the long face for? We're going back to school!" Pansy exclaimed perkily.

"Nothing. Just a morbid thought alert." Hermione said with a sigh. "So how have you been?"

"Busy. Last minute homework scramble. But I got most of it done."

"Most of it?"

"My Charms essay is a little thin on the ground, but otherwise it's good. How's it going for you?"

"I'm absolutely starving, though my designated meal time has passed with yet more disgusting spam-wannabes. Even spam would be preferable to what I have to eat." Pansy pulled a face.

"Unlucky."

"Parkinson!" Hermione raised her eyebrows at the approaching figure of Draco Malfoy, who was, damn him, eating.

"Just play along." Pansy hissed. "Drakie!" Her voice rose to a sickening octave.

"Clam it Pansy. Who's your friend?"

"Drakie, this is G. G, Draco Malfoy." Hermione held out her hand, and he hastily shifted the overflowing subway sandwich to his other hand and shook her hand.

"Do I know you? You look kinda familiar." He scrutinised her. Hermione shrugged.

"We probably passed each other in the halls. I'm not new or anything." He nodded, apparently satisfied, before taking another huge bite.

"Have you see Potter and Weasley? PDAs by those two should be illegal. I've not seen Granger anywhere though."

"Granger? I thought you called her mudblood." Hermione put in. He shrugged.

"Only to her face. I don't care all that much, although annoying her is entirely too amusing an opportunity to pass up." Hermione rolled her eyes, and his attention shifted back to Pansy.

"They're gross, but I try not to look in their direction. I find avoidance is the best course of action." Pansy said with a sneer.

"The boys even Pansy wouldn't touch. They must be less than sub-human." Draco grinned as Pansy glared.

"Don't be a jerk Draco. I only ever slept with you." Draco just stood and watched her steam, steadily eating his sandwich. "Oh, bite me!" She said finally, flouncing off.

"Wow." Hermione commented. Draco shrugged.

"I've had years of practise. Annoying her is almost as fun as annoying Granger. But it's all good. So what house are you in? I swear I recognise you…"

"Gryffindor. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't remember me. I've not exactly been the most sociable person with Slytherins."

"Who has? Not that we make much effort to socialise with others. Superiority complex and all that." He grinned, and Hermione grimaced slightly.

"You've got something in your teeth." She commented.

"Really? Where?" He ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned, and she shook her head. Pulling her compact out of her pocket, she flipped it open and turned it to face him and he quickly dealt with the problem. "Thanks." He looked at her calculatingly. "Are you sure you're a Gryffindor?"

"If you ask me if I'm really a Hufflepuff I'll slap you." Hermione said flatly. He laughed.

"Well, that's my next question out the window." He teased. Hermione glared, and he put his hands, complete with sandwich, up in submission. "Kidding! Geez, now I know you're a Gryffindor. That house never could take a joke."

"And yet the names Fred and George Weasley spring to mind." Hermione said snidely.

"They were maybe the only two sound ones out of the bunch."

"Are you sure you're really Draco Malfoy? Because you just called two Weasley's sound." He stuck his tongue out at her.

"Last time I checked I was Draco Malfoy, complete with great looks, big house and huge trust fund."

"And the ego to match. Yep, you're him."

"You seem to have a pretty good idea about me. You're not a stalker, are you?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"No. Why would I stalk you?"

"Because of my blinding looks and sparkling personality?"

"Which is voided by your unbelievably big head" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. The train whistle blew, and she waved. "See you later." She walked off, and boarded the train.

Instantly, she was swamped in magic, and she pitched sideways, leaning against the panelled wall, closing her eyes against the needle-like pain that spread down her arms and dissipated at her fingertips.

"You okay G?" She forced her eyes open.

"And you thought _I_ was a stalker. I'm good, just a little dizzy for a second there."

"Come on." Draco grabbed her arm in his free hand and tugged her through the crowds of students in the corridors, the masses parting almost instinctively for him. Those that didn't part got kicked to the side.

He came to a nearly empty compartment where two second years sat chatting. He jerked open the door and glared at them. "Okay you two, beat it."

"We were here first Malfoy." One of them said softly.

"Bite me shorty." Draco snapped. "I'm Head Boy and I say you find another compartment to be first in." The two second years gathered up their things and walked sulkily out, muttering under their breaths. Draco went inside, and sat Hermione down on one of the red velvet plush seats. He shut the compartment door, then sat across from her, taking another huge bite of his nearly-gone sandwich.

"Malfoy! You can't just kick them out like that! It's a total misuse of your powers as Head Boy." Hermione lectured. Draco leaned back as the train started off from the station, the carriages rocking slightly as the train gathered speed.

"Now, see, I know I know that voice. Lemme just think." He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, and Hermione had a split second to note that he, like Ron and Harry, had grown into the bigger, buffer, cuter version of his younger self before his eyes snapped open and he looked directly at her.

"Bloody hell! You're-"

"Hermione!"

They both looked to the door where Ron and Harry stood. Ron looked her over then rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, we thought you were someone else." Draco snickered at Ron's sheepish admission, but at Ron's glare leaned back and took a bite from his sandwich.

"Just eating the sandwich." He said with a smirk.

Harry sneered at him. "Have you seen Hermione?"

"Yep, I have." Draco kept eating, finishing it off and licking his fingers clean. He glanced at Hermione and smirked.

"Well, where is she?"

"I'm sure you must have passed her loads of times. She looks quite different."

"Malfoy!" Ron snapped. "Where the hell is she?"

"What is it you want, Ron?" Hermione asked tiredly, their bickering intensifying the headache she still felt.

"So it _is_ you, Mione! Where have you been?"

"Sitting here."

"But what about Malfoy? I'm surprised you havent killed him yet!"

"He's not given me reason to, so far." Hermione shrugged and looked down into her lap, playing with her charm bracelet.

"He's _Malfoy_, Hermione." Harry stressed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"In general, no, I'm not okay. But I'll be okay soon though. Well, eventually, anyway."

"G, I thought we said no morbid thoughts!" Hermione looked up and saw Pansy standing behind Ron and Harry. "'Scuze me. Coming through." She pushed them aside and dropped down on the seat next to Hermione.

"I see you have new friends now." Harry said tightly.

"You werent exactly forthcoming with the friendliness." Pansy defended.

"Then you can stay with your new friends." Ron snapped, drawing his wand.

"Weasley, no!" Pansy leapt forward but the spell still hit Hermione's charm bracelet, hanging from her wrist. They all watched as she froze, before pitching forward, her head between her knees, her breath coming in short gasps. "Dammit Weasley!" Pansy snarled, crouching by Hermione. "Why can't you leave well enough alone?"

"I didn't know it would do that!" Ron exclaimed, watching Hermione with a vague sense of horror.

"I'll be fine, I just –" Hermione lurched upright. "I think I'm going to be sick." She dashed from the compartment, her hands over her mouth.

"Well done." Draco said, clapping slowly.

"Shut up! You don't understand either." Pansy turned on him.

"I understand that something about Weasley's little spell made dear old G's stomach turn."

"That's not the half of it." Pansy muttered, sitting on the chair and tucking her legs under her.

"Well, aren't you going to explain?" Harry asked impatiently.

"There's nothing to explain. Just a bit of motion sickness." Hermione said from behind them. Draco raised his eyebrows at her blatant lie, but didn't call her on it. She stumbled past Harry and Ron and flopped onto the seat next to Pansy, leaning her head on Pansy's shoulder and closing her eyes.

"But you don't get motion sickness!" Ron protested. "And the train's barely moving!"

"I do now." Was Hermione's flat answer.

"Do what?" Hermione's eyes flew open, and she grinned at the familiar sight of Sam, standing behind the two boys.

"Do nothing." Hermione said with a smile, standing up and wavering slightly. Pansy grasped her arm to steady her.

"Are you alright? You're looking a little paler than usual." Sam asked concernedly.

"Ron did magic on her." Pansy said coldly.

"Give him a break, Pansy. He didn't know." Hermione said, pushing through the boys to stand at Sam's side.

"Can we recall how you spent your summer, sweetling?" Pansy asked sweetly.

"Point taken, Pansy." Hermione said with a sigh. She looked up at Sam. "Time?"

"Yep. Let's go Miss Granger." Sam walked off, and Hermione followed.

"Where's she going?" Harry asked.

"With him, clearly." Draco drawled, putting his feet up on the seat across from him and leaning back.

"Why?"

"Ask her."

"Parkinson, why is Hermione going-"

"Wrong her, dumbass. Ask G yourself if you want to know so badly."

"Or better yet, go away," Pansy chimed in. Harry and Ron exchanged glances before turning on their heels and stalking off. Pansy rolled her eyes. "It's sad that they actually have to plan to synchronize that."

&

"So how are you feeling?" Hermione shrugged, not answering Sam's question as she watched him put the two needles in her arm. "So Mr Weasley did a spell on you?"

"He didn't know it would have that affect on me." Hermione excused him.

"And have you talked to them about it?" Sam pressed turning on the dialysis machine and sitting down on the chair across from her. She shook her head.

"Only Pansy actually knows about it."

"And aren't you going to tell the others?"

"Not if I can avoid it." Hermione muttered.

"But why? They're your friends. They didn't know about any of your problems because you didn't tell them. Not because they were being assholes."

"They didn't write me at all!"

"You only wrote them twice. It seems to me that you gave up a little too easily."

"Three times, actually. If you're counting Harry's birthday card and present, which, I might add, he didn't even send a thank you note for!"

"I still think you're being a little harsh on them."

"You've made your opinion abundantly clear, thank you." Hermione snapped. Sam struggled to bury a grin that was threatening to surface, and watched as she leaned back and shut her eyes.

"You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend."

"What?" Hermione jerked forward, her eyes flashing open. "What are you talking about?"

"The blonde guy. Isn't he the Malfoy kid who's here? In your year, right?"

"_Draco_?" Hermione exclaimed. She laughed. "No, he isnt my boyfriend. We barely know each other and when we have met in the past, the meeting usually ended with a hex or a slap. We're not exactly fond of each other."

"Fiery chemistry then." Sam said with a smirk.

"You're my doctor, not my love advisor." Hermione said flatly.

"I'm just keeping you talking. So did Pansy date Mr Malfoy? I heard rumours along those lines."

"I guess she did. She used to hang all over him, it was kinda gross. But she's changed a lot over the summer, I guess. She's a lot more mature than she was."

"You knew her well then?"

"Well, no. Not really."

"So how do you know she's more mature?"

"It's just an observation. Geez, you're certainly calling me on everything today."

"It just seems that you've got an awful lot of preconceptions that you're only changing half-heartedly when you're proven wrong."

"So you're my shrink now?"

"I'm your friend, Hermione. But keep on like this and I think you might find that your bank of friends ends up being a little limited."

"So basically you're saying don't be such a bitch."

"Your words, not mine. But yes, I think you are being a little harsh. And that you might want to find out all the facts before you judge someone." The dialysis machine beeped and Sam rose to turn it off. Hermione watched him sullenly. She _hated_ it when people gave her lectures on her own life, and hated it even more when they were right. Sam came over to take the needles out of her arm and smiled encouragingly.

"You're right about Pansy though. She has grown up a lot over the summer. But she had a lot to take in – after all, she finds out that her entire life so far has been a lie; that she's a half-blood, that her engagement to Mr Malfoy could be stopped, that-"

"Hold on. She was _engaged_ to Malfoy?"

"From birth. It was an arranged marriage, as most pureblood marriages generally are. Most purebloods marry for connections, for power and for money. Not love. Rarely love."

"But what about the Weasleys?" Hermione asked. "I know I'm being harsh now, but they don't have connections, power or money."

"They're a prime example of what can happen when purebloods marry for love. That's why most marry for the other three reasons. But I have to say, the Weasley's have always seemed so much happier than any other pureblood family I have ever seen."

"They are happy." Hermione agreed. She winced as he took out the needles.

"Then there isnt really anything else they could seriously want. Nothing that matters, anyway." Sam stood back and Hermione got off the bed and stood, straightening your clothes. "Keep an open mind." Sam advised.

"Just not so open my brains fall out." Hermione added, smiling as she slipped through the door. "I've got enough problems already."

&

The train was crowded with large numbers of excited school kids running around, laughing and shrieking. Hermione passed through them as quickly as possible, reaching her compartment with barely concealed gratitude. She slipped through the door and dropped onto the seat, closing her eyes and leaning back.

"So where were you then?" Malfoy asked, watching her as she sat there, head tipped back and eyes closed. He took a bite out of his cauldron pasty and studied her. The more he looked at her the skinnier she seemed, and what Pansy had told him had not made things any clearer. In fact, he thought with some pride, she had spent nearly an hour telling him nothing and yet convincing him she was explaining everything. She certainly had grown up…her subtlety and penchance for word games had never been this good last year.

"Sam just wanted to know how I was feeling."

"For the last hour and a half?" Draco asked skeptically. Hermione opened her eyes and looked at him. He was slumped in the seat, his long legs stretched in front of him, eating something yet again.

"Yep." She answered finally.

"Why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

"Why don't you mind your own bloody business?" Hermione asked sweetly. "Only I'm getting a headache and you're not helping."

"Since when have I ever cared about helping you?" Malfoy asked with a shrug. "So just tell me already and I'll leave you alone."

"Or I could not, go to sleep and then you can talk to yourself." Hermione said with a small smile, before stretching out on the seat and closing her eyes.

"Granger, come on! It's only a little question!" Malfoy wheedled.

"Whining does not become you Malfoy. And it might be a little question but it has a big answer that I'm not prepared to go in to right now."

"I'll do magic on you. Something tells me you might not feel so well after that."

"Victims of Crucio rarely feel well after their ordeal." Hermione commented, her eyes still shut.

"Honestly, what do you take me for? It wouldn't take that much effort to make you talk. Not after the little spell Weasley did to break your bracelet made you ill. All I need is something a little more effective than that…and you'll be talking."

"No, I'll be spewing. And probably all over you. So drop it, Malfoy." Hermione snapped.

"But Granger…"

"I said, drop it!"

"Why don't you listen to her for a change, Malfoy? Everyone knows she's smarter than you!" Hermione sighed at the familiar voice, one she really didn't need to be hearing at this particular moment in time.

"Actually, she's not. We get just about even marks." Malfoy replied. This was news to Hermione, although it did make sense. While she wasn't entirely sure about the details of his grades, she knew they were pretty close to hers.

"That's bull, and you know it. Aren't I right, Hermione?"

"You seem pretty sure of yourself." Hermione answered without opening her eyes.

"Not that makes you right, though." Malfoy added. "Oh no. Please don't." Hermione heard the compartment door shut, and felt the seat near her head sink a little, and felt someone's hand on her shoulder, and she shot upright, her eyes wide open. Both Harry and Malfoy were staring at her in surprise.

"Sorry, just a little jumpy." She said lamely. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Bout what? What happened, Hermione? Did someone hurt you?"

"No." Hermione shook her head at Harry's anxious question. "I've not been hurt or anything. I've just been a bit ill, is all. Still got a sensitive nervous system, so to speak."

Trying to explain was so hard. What she was saying would simply sufficiently confuse Harry that eventually he would let it drop. But Malfoy was a hell of a lot smarter than that, and she had no doubt that he was piecing her half-truths together in his head until he managed to build up a picture of her situation that while perhaps not entirely accurate, it would certainly be too close for Hermione's isolationist idea of comfort. If she was merely explaining to Ron and Harry she could be more obvious than she was already being and they wouldn't get it. With Malfoy in the room Hermione feared she had already given too much away. She looked at the two boys and could see that she was right. Harry looked confused, and already prepared to drop the issue, whereas the look in Malfoy's eyes was shrewd and calculating as he watched her with hawk's-focus and chewed slowly on his pasty. At least he chewed with his mouth shut.

"Oh, okay. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. If I wasn't they wouldn't let me come back to Hogwarts, would they?" she laughed, but saw that again, she had said way too much. Harry would take what she said at face value, but she saw that Malfoy had done the opposite, had seen that she had only said what she said for Harry's benefit, and seen the truth behind the lying statement; that she was still ill, and only pretending.

"Harry! There you are!" The compartment door opened, effectively severing the conversation. Lavender bounced in, her long brown wavy hair flying around her head. She sat on Harry's lap and kissed him. Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked away, out the window. They were passing through a narrow valley lined with snowy-topped mountains, a clear indication that they werent far from Hogwarts.

"I'll see you later Hermione." Hermione glanced in his direction and nodded, and he left, Lavender attached to his arm.

"She quite resembles a leech, don't you think?" Malfoy asked thoughtfully, watching the pair leave.

"Rather like Pansy on you a couple years ago." Hermione answered indifferently. "I'm not particularly surprised about it though."

"Won't last long though, Lavender's as fickle as Pansy. Must be something to do with flower names." Hermione didn't answer, her gaze focused outside the window.

"So would you like to tell me what's really going on?"

"Honestly, no."

"You practically told Potter."

"I didn't tell Harry anything. He's not quite quick enough to pick up on almost anything I told him."

"Really? I thought he was smarter than that."

"Nah. He has buckets of luck, too much courage and a habit of choosing the lesser of two evils."

"Wish the rest of us faired that well."

"I could do with the luck. I'd swap the other two in order to keep my brains." Hermione said drily. Malfoy laughed.

"I suppose you're right. But what's this about you being ill?"

"Nothing. I just had a hard summer."

"A summer that left you looking as fragile as a stick figure. Hell, you practically are a stick figure."

"Thanks."

"I'm not going to claim I know you well, but I thought I knew you well enough to be right in saying you're not the type to end up with an eating disorder."

"I don't have an eating disorder. You're right…it's not my style. I'd magic myself thinner if I wanted it that desperately."

"So what's with the skinny look?"

"Hospital food isnt exactly fattening."

"You were in a hospital? Why?"

"They were worried for my health." Hermione almost wished she had admitted to an eating disorder. It would have stopped all his questions, and she wouldn't be stuck here trying to keep the truth from him.

"'Ello folks!" Pansy joined them in the compartment. "Whatcha talking about?"

"Hermione's little jaunt into the medical system." Malfoy said, his gaze not straying from Hermione's face.

"Actually, he's talking about it. I'm staring out the window."

"Ah. Communication as normal then?"

"You know about her little hospital visit, don't you?" Malfoy said suddenly, his focus changing from Hermione to Pansy instantly.

"Even if I did I wouldn't tell you. Figure it's her business."

"You two got real close, didn't you?" He asked, leaning back.

"She's a friend."

"She's a Gryffindor."

"You're a bastard. We move on from these things." Pansy shrugged.

"Attention, we will be arriving at Hogwarts in fifteen minutes. Will all students get their belongings together and prepare for disembarkation. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be moved to your rooms separately." The disembodied voice sounded through the room, and the three seventh years settled into silence.

&


	5. Chapter 5

Third and last update of the holidays! I'm feeling very proud of myself actually getting so much up in the last couple of weeks, but after this one it'll be around February before there are any updates since I have no net access when I'm at school because they've banned meaning I cant use it. I hope you like this! Istalindar

&

The platform was swarming with students, laughing and chattering and yelling and it made Hermione's head feel like it was going to explode. She took deep breaths, and let Pansy guide her through the throngs.

"What the hell is going on?" Draco asked, exhasperated. He took Hermione's other arm. "Pansy, this way." He pulled the two girls to the side of the thronging students, and Hermione leaned against the wall. "What is going on?" He demanded, his eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Nothing you need to worry about, Mr Malfoy, although I will say thank you for getting Miss Granger out of the way." They looked up and saw McGonagall standing beside them, a concerned expression on her face. "Come along Miss Granger." Hermione nodded, pushing herself off the wall so she was standing independantly upright.

"Coming. Thanks you two." She smiled, before following McGonagall to a carriage that stood separate from the others. McGonagall climbed in and Hermione followed, and the door swung shut and the carriage moved off.

"So how are you feeling?" McGonagall asked. Hermione leaned back in the seat.

"Not too bad, I guess. It could be worse. Overall I just feel tired, and hungry, and my head hurts like fu- like someone's pounding it with a sledgehammer."

"Well." McGonagall said, a hint of disapproval at Hermione's choice of words, and her lack of subtlety at covering it up. "I'm afraid you'll be missing the feast tonight, and the sorting. But the Headmaster and I both felt that it was more important that you explain fully to myself as your Head of House and to Madame Pomfrey exactly what your situation is, and how it is we might have to change your schedule so you can still have your…treatments."

"Hasn't Sam explained?"

"Dr Williamson has explained the medical side of your condition, but we felt it best if we find out from you what best works for you. After all, you are our star pupil." Hermione ducked her head at the praise, though said nothing. "And, the staff have been doing quite a bit of thinking, especially in light of your recent health issues."

"And?" Hermione prompted. She had no idea what McGonagall was talking about.

"We've decided you will still be Head Girl. However, if at any point you feel it is too much for you, you may of course pass on the title to another seventh year."

"I never got the letter-" she trailed off as she took the letter from McGonagall.

"We were about to send it when we heard that you'd fallen ill. We wanted to get opinions from your paren'ts and from Dr Whales before we laid the responsibility on your shoulders."

"I understand."

The carriage jolted to a halt, and Hermione and McGonagall got out and entered the school through a small side door. Obviously at some point the carriage had broken off from the rest of the retinue and come round here, to the side of the school and the 'service' entrance.

"Follow me, Miss Granger."

Hermione did as she was told, following the Scottish professor up the stairs, taking care not to tread on the train of McGonagall's robes as she went. They passed along several corridors and climbed several flights of stairs that Hermione didn't recognise, before suddenly appearing before the hospital wing in the empty corridor. Hermione followed McGonagall inside, straight through the tidy rooms to Madame Pomfrey's office.

Inside, Madame Pomfrey was reading and cross-referencing several books, and Hermione knew by the illustrations that it was about her.

"Miss Granger! It is good to see you well, after all that's happened to you this summer."

"Good to see you too, Madame Pomfrey." Hermione said awkwardly. She shifted her weight to her other foot.

"Please, sit down." Hermione and McGonagall both sat down. "I've been doing research on your kidney condition: so I'm pretty confident on the medical side of it. It's actually very easily treated, except for your simultaneous allergy. This means we have to use muggle methods, with muggle limitations."

"I'm muggle-born, Madame. I'm aware of the restrictions." Madame Pomfrey nodded.

"Of course you do. What I want to know now is is there anything you'd like me to arrange? As Head Girl you'll be sharing a suite with the Head Boy, so you'll have plenty of room and-"

"Who is the head boy?" Hermione interrupted.

"Mr Malfoy." McGonagall said sourly. "Dumbledore seems to think that in spite of Mr Malfoy's history, that he will make a good leader and role model for the younger students."

"He's got the brains for it." Hermione pointed out. "And maybe he's changed. I have to say getting me and Pansy out of that crowd was very unexpected. He might surprise us all."

"Possibly. But until then, I think I shall retain my opinions." Hermione shrugged at McGonagall's cynicism.

"Anyway. You'll need dialysis three times a day; before breakfast, at lunch, and then just before you go to bed. Professor Snape has arranged for these to be made," Pomfrey opened a drawer and pulled several potion bottles out and put them on the desk. The bottles were square and made of thick green glass. On the side of each was a label and a piece of paper crammed with tiny handwriting. "They will dumb down the effects of your allergy, at least so you don't have a constant headache just from being at school. Others, we hope, will slow the deterioration of your kidneys. They have instructions on them and Professor Snape instructed me to tell you that the directions must be followed exactly if you have any chance of the potions working." Hermione suppressed a smile at Pomfrey's tone of voice. She did quite a good Snape impression, scarily enough. "We know you have to eat different food, and so it has been arranged with the house-elves that your place at the table will already be set with food, although an illusion will cover it so that before everyone eats, it will appear that there is nothing on your plate, but when everyone starts eating, what you eat will appear to be the same as what they're eating." Hermione nodded. "Other than that, unless there is anything that we have overlooked that you should tell us, we're pretty sure we've covered everything. Is there anything you'd like to tell us?"

"I'd really like to keep this whole kidney and magic allergy thing a secret. The last thing I need is for people to have an excuse to call me mudblood." A sharp inhalation came from Hermione's left, an indication that McGonagall, as sharp-eyed as she seemed, had missed that particular aspect of Hermione's school life. Madame Pomfrey nodded.

"As well as we can, we will. But there does need to be some notice put out, otherwise people will do magic on you without realising how much you could suffer for it. Just think how often you do magic on yourself."

Images of the Yule Ball of fourth year, when Hermione had literally coated herself in magic, sprang to mind. Then all the times someone had used magic to straighten her necklace, or jokingly make her grow bunny ears. That had been embarassing. But if it happened again, it could be fatal.

"I understand." Hermione said. "But couldn't you just reinforce the no magic in the halls part, with…penalties or something? In the classroom couldn't the teacher just make sure nothing happens?"

"Teachers have many things to do whilst in a classroom, ensuring that Gryffindors and Slytherins don't kill each other being the main one. We can't ensure 100 protection." Mcgonagall answered. Hermione sighed.

"Well, I guess you might have to tell them then. Just miss out the part about the kidney failure. That isnt affected by magic anyway."

"Actually, we think the two are linked. Your magic allergy may have caused your kidney failure from long neglect."

"Are you saying I have kidney failure because I've been allergic to magic for years and never knew?" Hermione exclaimed.

"It is a possibility. We don't know for sure. Dr Williamson is running tests to see if that is the case."

"This sucks." Hermione sulked, slumping down in her chair.

"I have to get back to the feast." McGonagall said, standing up. "Poppy, could Miss Granger eat here tonight? I think it might be more comfortable for her here." Madame Pomfrey nodded.

"Of course." She gestured with her wand, and a golden plate loaded with the spam-imitation mystery meat appeared before Hermione, as well as a goblet of water. "I have to go down to the feast as well, so when you're finished…Minerva, she doesn't know the passwords. Or where the Head suite is, for that matter."

"Third floor east corridor, behind the painting of the storm. You know the one?"

"Yeah, I know it."

"The password is knucklebones. Everything is pretty clear inside. I might come and check in with you later."

"And don't forget you have dialysis tonight at around nine." Madame Pomfrey added.

"Okay, got it." Hermione smiled, and the two women turned and walked out of the hospital wing, leaving Hermione alone in the office. "Well, bollocks."

&

"Knucklebones." The painting rolled upwards, frame and all, exposing a door in the wall. Hermione pushed it open and stepped inside the common room. There was a huge fireplace framed in mahogany set in the wall, before which were two black plush couches. The floor was white marble flecked with silver, and by the fireplace a thick dark green carpet covered the floor. To the right of the common room was a door labelled Head Girl, and Hermione pushed against it gently and it opened. The room behind it was large and circular. All the furniture was curved to fit against the wall, the bed had one curved side, and one straight side. The wardrobe appeared to have a curved back, as did the desk and chest of drawers. The carpets were all round, and a dark red in colour.

"Blood colour. Urk." Hermione screwed her up face and opened the door on the left side of the room, and found it opened into a rectangular bathroom. Everything was white – white marble floor, huge deep white porcelain bath, white tiles on three out of four walls, the remaining wall being mirrored. Two white porcelain sinks were set against the mirrored wall, and on the far side of the bathroom from her door was another door. Hermione crossed to it and pulled at it, but it didn't open.

"Must be Malfoy's door." She mused. The sound of a door shutting made her turn quickly, passing through her bedroom into the common room, where she found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy, looking stormy and pissed off, though still eating, the apple in his hand nearly gone. "What's up?"

"You werent at the feast. Where were you?" He asked.

"Talking to Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall." Hermione answered. "What's up?"

"Potter tried to give me a black eye, so I stopped him. And got caught doing it."

"What did you do to him?"

"All I did was make him a bit breathless." He said with a shrug. At Hermione's blank look, he sighed and elaborated. "I punched him in the stomach."

"Ah." Hermione said, understanding. "Bit harsh, wasn't it?"

"I could have aimed somewhere more painful, trust me." Malfoy walked past her and dropped onto one of the couches. "You had a look round then?"

"Round is right. My bedroom is a circle. It's weird."

"Really? I take it you've never had a circular room before then."

"Nope. Corners have been the distinguishing aspect of my bedrooms until now." She answered.

"You'll get used to it. Have you been in my room?"

"Nope. I only just got here."

"So why were you seeing Pomfrey?" He asked, getting up and going to his door, before passing through it into his room. Hermione rolled her eyes at his insistence and pushed herself off the couch and wandering over to his door, leaning against the jamb as he inspected his also-circular room. She watched him bounce on the bed, open the curved window and shut it again, cock his head thoughtfully at his circular backed bookcase before turning to look at her inquisitively.

"Can't we talk about something else?" Hermione implored. He shrugged.

"Sure. But you get to think of the topic, since you shot mine down."

"I did _not_ shoot your topic down!"

"So what do you call it then?"

"It's just not a topic I'd like to talk about."

"So think up a new one. I'm getting bored." Hermione's mind raced as she sought for a topic less about her and more about-

"I heard you were engaged to Pansy."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"But you broke up last year."

"Well done for hearing year-old news. It's not a big deal - it was just an arranged marriage that we decided we'd like unarranged."

"How long's it been arranged for?" Hermione asked curiously. She backed out of the way as Draco walked towards her and sat on the couch, curling her legs under her.

"Since she was born. She's younger than me, which is why it worked out that way."

"When your birthday?" Hermione asked.

"April fourth. Why?"

"I was just wondering if I was older than you is all."

"And?"

"I am."

"Really? When's your birthday?"

"March eighteenth." He nodded. "So why did you have an arranged marriage?"

"It's traditional in the old pureblood families. Parkinsons, Malfoys, Blacks…all the old houses like that. Hell, even the Weasleys did it until they gave up on the whole idea, married for love and got dirt-poor."

"You don't believe in marrying for love then?" She asked, watching as he sat on the black couch across from her and stretched out. He shrugged.

"I've never met anyone worth loving enough to marry them."

"So you'll just marry into money and power then?"

"No – _they'll_ marry into money and power. The money and power part doesn't really affect me, since I'm the one with the money and power."

"Surely it accumulates, though." Hermione commented.

"Not enough to make a huge difference." Draco said indifferently, he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. "My family is one of the richest and most powerful in all wizarding society."

"You can always get richer." Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah…but I'd rather work to get that money and stay single rather than marry some girl I don't love and barely like just so I can have her money. And then it's a toss-up anyway, especially if she has a brother. Because then I have to kill the brother to get the money and that's just messy." Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"You'd kill her brother to get her money?"

"Well, no, I wouldn't. But Malfoy's in the past have done. Like I said, I'd rather work to earn the money. Then at least I'd know it's mine."

"A Malfoy saying he'd prefer to work. Will wonders never cease?" Hermione joked. Her smile faded as she saw Draco's eyes harden.

"We didn't get given the position and power and money we have, Granger. We worked for it."

"I was _kidding_ Malfoy." Hermione protested. "I may not have buckets of money, but I know how it works. You work, you get paid."

"The work varies, though." He said, his eyes clear again, his lips twisting into a smirk.

"Of course." Hermione said solemnly. "Honest work rarely pays well."

"Not as well as the dishonest stuff, anyway." He rolled back onto his back. "Anyway. I wouldn't be Head Boy if I didn't work my ass off for it."

"I know. It's part of the reason _I was only kidding_!" Hermione stressed. She glanced at her watch – quarter to nine. "I gotta go." She uncurled herself and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"Hospital wing."

"Why?" Draco sat up and looked at her steadily.

"To see Madame Pomfrey." She answered, trying for a smile and failing.

"Why? You were with her for like an hour earlier."

"Yeah, well, I need to see her again." Hermione shrugged and before he could ask another question, slipped out the door.

&

It was dark in the common room when she got back, apart from the dark glowing coals with lit the far side of the room with a soft red light. Hermione slipped off her shoes and tiptoed across the cold marble floor, but had only gotten halfway when she was interrupted.

"The sneaking wasn't so bad, but you practically slammed the door. Kinda gave you away." He commented drily. She could hear him eating something – did the boy never stop?

"Excuse me for not being a master at stealth." Hermione snapped, still walking. The tender skin on the inside of her elbows hurt from the repeated needle use. At this rate she was going to get track marks, and then everyone really would think she was a heroine addict. She pushed at her door, and it swung open.

"Where were you?"

"Do you not listen, Malfoy? I was in the hospital bay, talking to Madame Pomfrey, for the second time today."

"Talking about what?" he pressed.

"Goodnight Malfoy." She said flatly, before going into her room and shutting the door firmly behind her. The circular room messed with her head and she closed her eyes with a groan. There was nothing magical about it, apart from the fact it was just a little too weird at this time of the night. Keeping her eyes closed, she stripped to her underwear and climbed into bed, snuggling under the warm red duvet with a happy sigh.

And then she fell asleep.

&


	6. Chapter 6

I've been gone a long time, I know, and I just want to say a huge thanks to everyone who's stuck with me despite the fact that I haven't updated in nearly five months. I'm still working on everything, promise…it's just slow work at the moment but as soon as I have stuff to put up and intenet to put it up on, you'll have it. Thanks so much for your patience. Istalindar

&\

She woke up the following morning to the now-familiar sensation in her lower abdomen that indictated her kidneys were feeling overworked again. She lay as still as possible, hoping they'd give up and she could go back to sleep, despite the fact the big hand of her clock was working around to the twelve and the little hand already rested on seven.

No luck. They twinged again, more insistent this time, and she rose, avoiding looking in the mirror at her decimated body before throwing on a robe, grabbing her clothes and wandering into the bathroom. It was full of steam and Draco stood in front of the mirror, doing his hair. He was shirtless, and his back was still wet.

"Your back's still wet." Hermione commented. Draco reached behind him and felt it then shrugged.

"I'll live."

"How long have you been up?"

"Since half six, so not so long." He smirked at her in the mirror and she frowned. His teeth were blue.

"Did you realise your teeth were blue?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded.

"Blueberries. I'll sort them out in a sec."

"You're eating already?" Hermione asked incredulously, dumping her clothes on the counter and hoisting herself up onto it to sit between them and the sink closest to her.

"Sure. Want some?" Hermione shook her head, grabbing her toothbrush and squeezing toothpaste on it. She hoped that was reason enough for her refusal, because she wasn't sure how she was going to tell him that blueberries, along with just about every other fruit on the planet, was one of those things she couldn't eat. "Suit yourself. More for me." He popped one in his mouth from the bowl Hermione could now see, and kept combing his hair.

They stayed there in relative silence while Hermione brushed her teeth and Draco combed his hair until he finally decided it was perfect and dropped the comb into the drawer under the sink, flashed her a blue-tinted smirk and sauntered out of the bathroom.

"Weird person." She muttered, spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and sliding off the counter. She left her toothbrush by the sink and shrugged the robe off her bony shoulders along with the underwear she had slept in and stepped into the shower.

It ran first boiling hot, making her jump backward with a wince, and then cooled down all the way to freezing, making her squeal slightly. It then warmed up again to fairly hot.

"Stupid shower. Is it so hard to run right?" she muttered resentfully, quickly washing herself before stepping out and wrapping herself in a towel.

"You've got ten minutes before breakfast, mudblood!" Draco called cheerfully. Hermione rolled her eyes and continued drying herself off without replying. She heard the door to the common room slam and relaxed slightly. At least if he was gone she didn't need to worry about him walking in on her and seeing her in any stage of undress.

Dumping the towel on the floor, she quickly dressed in her school uniform, which was now far too big for her. She sighed, regarding herself in the mirror. She looked like a little girl trying on her mother's slightly odd clothing. She completely undressed apart from her underwear and went to fetch her wand from her room.

"G? Are you around sweetpea?" Pansy's voice echoed through the Head's Suite.

"Yep." Hermione called. "My room."

"Okay, I'm coming in." she slipped in and Hermione thought she saw Draco behind her but the door closed too quickly for her to have any more than a tiny glance. "Oh, honeypie! You're way too skinny!"

"You're telling me, although we did have this discussion yesterday morning. Bathroom…I have to resize my wardrobe – I forgot to do it before. It's like a zillion sizes too big for me."

"I'm not surprised. Come on then, I'll help you get the sizing right." Pansy took Hermione's frail hand and pulled her into the bathroom. Pansy immediately locked Malfoy's door to the bathroom, before looking critically over Hermione before muttering several spells on the clothes laid out on the counter. She held them up to Hermione and nodded.

"The skirt's too short." Hermione said flatly as Pansy held it up to her waist. Pansy laughed but lengthened it.

"You can be such a prude, G."

"Look, I have bone-legs. Can we not advertise them to the school?" Hermione pleaded. Pansy nodded.

"Fair enough." She held it up against Hermione's waist and looked at Hermione's reaction. Hermione nodded and Pansy smiled. "Fab. You get dressed and then we can go down to breakfast."

"I can't…I have dialysis."

"But you have to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Hermione! This is why you look like the grim reaper, sans scythe. You _must_ eat."

"I do! But I feel so sick sometimes."

"We'll discuss this later. Get dressed." Pansy left the bathroom, and Hermione hurriedly dressed in her now-fitting clothes, ran a brush through her hair before tying it back. She quickly put on concealer, blusher and mascara before stepping into her bedroom. Pansy stood up and looked her over critically.

"You'll do." She said finally. Hermione sighed.

"You're so kind." She said. She brushed past Pansy and headed into the common room. Draco was sprawled on the couch, eating a bacon sandwich. He looked up as the two girls walked in.

"Are you planning on eating breakfast?" he asked. Hermione pulled on the robes Pansy handed her and shrugged.

"If I have time."

"If you're going to see Madame Pomfrey we gotta make tracks." Pansy commented. Malfoy looked sharply at Hermione.

"Again?"

"It's a regular thing, Malfoy."

"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?"

"Too much to explain now." Hermione said shortly. She walked past Malfoy, neatly stepping sideways out of his reach as he grabbed for her arm. "Are you coming Pansy?"

"Yep. I'll grab something on the way."

"Cool." Malfoy watched as the two girls left the common room and cocked his head inquisitively at their retreating backs. This was certainly something for him to investigate – he _hated_ it when people refused to tell him something. And Granger was certainly holding something back.

&

"Madame Pomfrey is really gonna kick your ass if you miss more meals." Pansy commented as the girls left the hospital wing and headed downstairs, Hermione for Care of Magical Creatures and Pansy for Charms.

"I know. But Malfoy took ages in the bathroom this morning, and then all my clothes had to be resized..."

"And you'll just have to get up earlier." Pansy finished. "I'll see you later hun…hurry up or you'll be late. Have fun with the Hufflepuffs!"

"Piss off." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Pansy. "See you later, hon."

As she approached Hagrid's hut, she saw coloured sparks flying into the air from all directions, and she sighed. This did not bode well for her lesson. Or for her allergy.

She saw that, as usual, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had separated themselves, and that Hagrid was doing nothing about it. So much for interhouse unity. As she walked down the hill, Hagrid spotted her and waved her over.

"'ermione! Hows yeh been? Didn't see you in the Great 'all!"

"I overslept." Hermione called back with a smile. The half-giant had a grin that looked like it would split his face, and Hermione couldn't help but return it.

"Well, getcha self down 'ere. I have some things yeh can do." Hermione nodded, and negotiated the rest of the hill. She grinned at Hagrid before shrugging.

"So what do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Well," Hagrid's voice lowered. "You really can't work with the Jigglipinks – they send off magic in all directions. So I found these little beauties for you." Hermione looked into the cage and her heart sank.

Stick insects.

"So what are they?" she asked with a bright smile, hoping that maybe that they had some hidden use that would alleviate the task of spending two hours straight staring at stick insects.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure. What I can tell is that they're not magical. Maybe they're a muggle insect of some description."

"They're called stick insects." Hermione said tiredly. "They're called that because they look like sticks. It's camoflage, so that they don't get eaten by birds. Or anything else, for that matter."

"Wow. Thanks, 'ermione! Since you know about them stick insects, why don't you just sit and watch what the others are doing. Do you know about Jigglipinks?"

"Yep." Hermione did not elaborate.

"Oh, well. Good, then. Well, you just sit and watch, and we'll see how it goes."

Care of Magical Creatures quickly slid down the scale of Hermione's favourite subjects, as she perched herself on one of the logs and watched as the small pink volley-ball-esque creatures managed to bounce, roll and cannonball themselves away from the students, using magic as propulsion. More than once Hermione had to duck as they whizzed past her head for the Forbidden Forest. Ron, chasing after his, skidded to a half in front of her.

"Hermione! When did you get here? Why aren't you helping us? You know you're so much better with the monsters than we are."

"Not true, Ron. I've been here a while, but I was feeling a bit sick so Hagrid told me to sit down for a little bit."

"Harry told me you werent very well over the summer. Is that why you didn't come to the Burrow?"

Hermione, remembering Sam's words about her harsh judgements, flushed. "That's part of it. But also, you guys never replied to the letters I sent – I just assumed you were busy."

"We were! We had Lavender and Parvati round for a bit…that was great." His face took on a dreamy expression. "Yeah, but, anyway. You know, when I think about it, I don't think you would have had much fun had you been there anyway. I know Ginny buggered off to Louisa Thomas' house – you know, Dean's sister? She's a muggle, but when Ginny and her met they were off like bloody rockets, chatting and laughing and…whatever else it is that girls do."

Hermione had a feeling that talking to Louisa wasn't the only thing Ginny did at Dean's house. She wouldn't be surprised to find out that Ginny had gotten the guided tour of Dean's bedroom, and was tempted to ask, just to see Ron's face. But she restrained herself, mainly because it looked like Harry was having a little trouble with the second Jigglipink of the morning.

"I think Harry could use a little help." She said, pointing to where Harry struggled to hold onto the sphere-shaped pink creature while attempting to dodge the magical sprays it was emitting in every direction.

"Okay, you lot! Put yer Jigglipinks in the box and then off yeh go!" Hagrid bellowed, scaring several crows out of the nearby trees. Hermione hopped off her log and waited for Harry and Ron, only to see them pair up with Lavender and Parvati respectively and sweep up the path, leaving Hermione behind.

"Well, pfft to you to." She muttered darkly, grabbing her books and heading up the hill alone. The climb seemed both longer and steeper than usual, and Hermione was knackered when she reached the top. She leaned against the standing stones at the top and looked out over the valley, trying not to think about the fact that she had Tansfiguration next and kidney and allergy or not, McGonagall was going to go spare if she was overly late.

The sound of a large group of people approaching made Hermione look back at the path and saw all the seventh year Slytherins, followed by the Ravenclaws approaching. She sighed and looked back over the valley, hoping that the more vicious students from both houses would just ignore her.

"Oi, mudblood! Hear you've gone anorexic!" Hermione's head snapped round in time to see Pansy casually break the Ravenclaw boy's nose as she walked past.

"Hey honey!" She called. Hermione waved unenthusiastically.

"You fucking bitch!" the boy yelled, running at Pansy only to be swept off his feet when Draco tripped him up. The hapless boy found himself surrounded by a circle of stony-looking Slytherins and he gulped.

"Don't even try to touch her." Draco said calmly. He dropped a handful of orange peel onto the boys face, before starting to eat the fruit.

"And touch G and I'll kick your ass." Pansy added coldly. The boy nodded frantically, and the Slytherins dispersed. "See ya later G!"

"Have fun." Hermione said, rolling her eyes before stepping on the path that led her across to the main portion of the castle.

&

As she knew she would be, she was late. And McGonagall did go spare.

"Do you have any idea what time is it, Miss Granger?" she demanded.

"Sorry professor." Hermione said quietly.

"You might as well miss the entire lesson! Where were you?"

"Out by Hagrid's."

"Having a chat? You have time after school to do that, Miss Granger!"

"Actually, there was some problems with a Ravenclaw and the Slytherins."

"And you stuck around to watch?"

"Well, not all of it. But it started on my account – I didn't feel like I could just walk off."

"How was it on your account?"

"Well, one of the Ravenclaw boys said something particularly unpleasant, and one of the Slytherins decked him for it. He went after them, and he suddenly had a whole group of Slytherins converging on him, so he backed down and we went our separate ways. It did, however, make me late."

"Yes, it did. Sit down and ten points from Gryffindor." Hermione nodded and turned to find a seat. In a Gryffindor's only class, the only free seat was by Lavender. Hermione slid into it, wondering where Parvati was.

"Hey. Where's Parvati?" Hermione murmured as she got out her quill and parchment.

"Why should you care?" Lavender hissed. Hermione backed off hastily, wondering what the hell was going on. Five minutes later, Lavender leaned over. "Sorry about that."

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered.

"Me – just standard PMS, I guess. I'm just awfully glad it happened."

"What happened?" Hermione asked. Lavender made a face, and Hermione understand. "Oh. You thought you were…but you're not. Well, that's good, right?"

"Good and bad. Good because – hello? Still in school. Bad because…well I know Harry wouldn't abandon his kid."

"Harry?" Hermione exclaimed. She quickly lowered her voice. "You and Harry have…?"

"You didn't know? First time was at the Burrow…omg, you have no idea how fit and how big…"

"Lavender!" Hermione hissed desperately. "Please. I don't want to know this."

"Don't know why not…you could've had him at any point, thought I don't know why you passed that opportunity up."

"Because he's like my brother. That would just be so wrong."

"Oh, I don't know. If my brother looked like that…"

"Girls! Could you save it for after the lesson, by any chance?" McGonagall snapped. Both girls jumped and looked up, and saw a glowering McGonagall standing over them.

"Yes, professor."

"Sorry professor." Hermione added.

"I want silence from you two from now on. Miss Granger, you have to catch up what you missed with your tardiness. Miss Brown, you could do with a good deal more practise. Now stay quiet and work, or I shall be forced to take off a point for every word you say! Do you understand me?" Both girls nodded vehemently. "Good."

The lesson passed, for Hermione and Lavender at least, in silence from then.

&

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Hermione was feeling very ill. Her stomach was rolling and even the thought of food made her swallow convulsively against rising bile. When all the rest of the students turned left from Transfiguration for the Great Hall, Hermione turned right for the hospital wing.

She had to run the last corridor, barely making it inside the wing to a sink before she threw up everything she had in her stomach. Madame Pomfrey, alerted by the sound of wretching, hurriedly came out of her office.

"Miss Granger! Whatever is the matter?"

"I feel sick, professor." Hermione said, propping her elbows on the table and holding her hair back as she hung her head over the bowl, now filled with pink watery vomit. Hermione closed her eyes in disgust.

"Do you know what could be causing this?" Pomfrey asked.

"I've had two magic-filled classes. Care of Magical Creatures with Jigglipinks and Transfiguration next to Lavender." She heard Pomfrey sigh.

"I've told your professors to exclude you from the more magical lessons!" She huffed with annoyance.

"Oh, they have. I've done nothing but write lines and reread chapters all day. But with magic shooting off all over the place it's hardly surprising the air's full of the damn stuff."

"Please watch your language, Miss Granger."

"Sorry." She dry-heaved again, before straightening and shrugging off her robes onto her bag on the floor.

"Here." Hermione took the offered glass of water, and downed it in one.

"Thanks."

"Shall we get you hooked up?"

"Sure, why not? Where's Sam?"

"He's gone to London to sort some things out, though he'll be back this evening. I'm sure I'm quite capable, and what I don't know you can tell me."

"Oh! That's not what I meant when I asked for him!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm just so used to seeing him around…"

"Well, his leave only extends to the end of this week, so he'll be gone soon, I'm afraid." Hermione nodded.

"Well, I knew he wouldn't stay forever. Shall we get this over with?" she followed Pomfrey into the special hidden room designated for the dialysis machine and settled onto the bed, rolling up her sleeves so Madame Pomfrey could insert the needles. She taped them down and turned on the machine, before leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

Fifteen minutes into the hour-long process, Pansy turned up, bright eyed and carrying a plateful of food.

"You're evil and I hate you." Hermione groaned, as Pansy sat down and began to eat.

"I'm a Slytherin, honey. Nice to see you too, by the way. How's it going?"

"I've been sick again…stupid magic. Stupid allergy."

"Aw, sweetie. How're you feeling now?"

"The way I always feel. Tired. Hungry. Vaguely nauseous. Other than that, it's all good." She smiled brightly.

"Well, that's alright then. Did McGonagall get on your back about being late?"

"Hell yes. All, 'Do you know time it is?' well, not off hand, but I realise I'm late. Then it was, 'So what were you doing, chatting?' and I'm like, no, I was watching others fight-"

"You didn't snitch on us did you?" Pansy demanded.

"What do you take me for? I said some Slytherins and Ravenclaws were having a disagreement. Anyway. Then she took ten points from her own frickin' house, and then when I was trying to get Lavender to stop talking about how good Harry was in bed, she told me to shut up and copy up what I had missed, which, incidentally, I already knew, and then she said if either me or Lavender said another word she'd take a point off for every word!" Hermione took a deep breath at the end of her rather long sentence.

"Feel better honey?"

"Much, thanks. I have to say though, it was a very tidy break." Hermione said admiringly. Pansy preened.

"I've had practise. In Slytherin we occasionally resort to violence when we can't wait around for revenge plotting. It doesn't happen very often though, as a rule, Slytherins are usually infinitely patient."

"So how would you have practise?"

"Well, violence doesn't just happen when we're getting revenge, you know. There's the small issue of 'dorm violence'."

"What?"

"Basically a lot of the guys in Slytherin are girlfriend beaters. I'm sure you can guess the worst culprit's. But after a year of icepacks and cake makeup I decided enough was enough and blackmailed a friend into teaching me hand-to-hand combat skills, or at least enough to keep me away from my heavy foundation, which does terrible things to my pores."

"A friend?"

"Draco."

"Ah. You blackmailed him?" Hermione asked with interest. Pansy smirked.

"We'll make a Slytherin of you yet, honeypie. I can't tell you, clearly…although I'm sure in living with him you'll find _something_ worth blackmail. I grew up with him, so there's lots I know, and lots I can use."

"Oh, why can't you tell me?" Hermione asked, shifting slightly on the narrow, uncomfortable bed.

"There's…rules to it, I suppose. I know stuff to blackmail him with, but I wouldn't tell anyone else what it is. Same with him. He knows plenty to blackmail me with, but he won't tell anyone else – he'll just keep it all to himself and use what works best at the opportune moment. It's like an unwritten law…kind of. I don't know if it works for anyone else, but that's the agreement we've come to."

"Blackmail among friends?"

"Precisely."

"I thought Slytherins didn't have friends, only business partners." Hermione pointed out.

"Okay, you realise you can't repeat any of what I'm about to say, right?"

"You aren't siblings!"

"No. No, we're not. I suppose we could be, the amount of time we've spent together, we practically grew up together. But no. The thing is, I suppose you could say that Draco and I aren't typical Slytherins. A typical Slytherin would be smart, but not too smart – that's Ravenclaw, ambitious, power-hungry, devious…"

"Are you trying to convince me you're _not_ a Slytherin? Only you're not doing so well."

"What I was going to add was that they are also ruthless, intensely selfish, conceited and self-centered. They literally do not see out of the box they've put themselves in. And while I admit I can be selfish, though only when it benefits everyone-"

"A happy Pansy is a happy world."

"There is no need to be mean. My point is…would you find your stereotypical Slytherin eating dinner in a sideroom off the hospital wing next to her terminally ill friend who happens to be not only a Gryffindor but a mudblood at that? I think not. That's what separates me and Draco from the others. Okay, granted," She waved at Hermione to be quiet as she opened her mouth to speak, "He isnt here now, but that's because he barely knows you. But he wasn't just defending me when he threatened that Ravenclaw. And he was taking a risk saying it that way. If he'd said my name then it'd be alright, but since he didn't it's open to speculation whether he was talking about me or you. I personally think he was talking about us both, but-"

"Why would he care about me, though?"

"Because you intrigue him. You're holding back, and he hates it when people do that. And you're possibly the only girl in the school old enough to count that wouldn't jump at the chance to get in his bed."

"You mean those rumours are true!" Hermione asked, aghast.

"They're exaggerated. He has slept with a lot of girls, but he doesn't just sleep with anyone. He sleeps with the beautiful girls, the popular girls, the girls that surprise him, that confuse him…he likes girls that keep him guessing…"

"That's nearly all the girls in the school." Hermione pointed out.

"Nope. Because if you aren't his kind of beautiful you're out of the running. Then you have to be...well, not always popular, but you have to be smart – he's not fond of bimbo airheads…he likes his 'pillow-friends' to have enough intelligence to voice her own opinion, especially if it differs from his, because I swear there is nothing that man likes more than arguing!"

"He's very fond of eating, I've noticed." Hermione said dryly.

"Hmm." Pansy said, considering. "True, but that's a recent thing. He's been sleeping with girls since fourth year."

"Busy lad."

"Oh, trust me. He deserves the reputation he's got."

"Slytherin sex-god? Seems a little extreme to me."

"Talking about me? While I'm flattered, I have to - whoa…interesting little setup you have here, Granger." Both girls looked up and Hermione inhaled sharply. Pansy leapt up, her empty plate clattering to the floor.

"Piss off!" She exclaimed, rushing forward, pushing him out and following him, shutting the door behind her, leaving Hermione alone in the room. She covered her face with her hands and sighed.

"Shit." She muttered. The dialysis machine beeped, and it's hum faded away. A couple of seconds later, Pansy came back in.

"We left the door open." She commented needlessly.

"What did he say?"

"He just wanted to know what was going on. He complained bitterly that you were keeping him in the dark, and when I told him it wasn't any of his business he got _quite_ defensive." Pansy smirked. "You've certainly sparked his interest."

"Well, he can take his interest and shove it up his – Madame Pomfrey. Hi." Pomfrey gave her a reproving look before checking the dials on the machine and then removing the needles from Hermione's arms.

"Miss Parkinson, it's time for you to go to lessons. Off you go."

"What about Hermione?"

"She and I need to talk, and she still needs to eat. Tell Professor Snape that I am keeping her in. He knows about her condition, so he won't cause a fuss."

"See you later hon." Pansy said, leaning in to give Hermione a hug. She muttered darkly in Hermione's ear, "Won't cause a fuss my arse. Just be ready to defend yourself when you get there." She stepped back, smiled cheerily, and bounced out of the sideroom.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" Pomfrey asked.

"You might as well call me Hermione, we're going to be seeing a lot of each other." At Pomfrey's nod, she continued. "I feel like I usually do, so no big change there. Though I could have done without Malfoy walking in on this."

"Yes, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy's argument brought me out of my office, they were so loud. Though I do admire her loyalty to you – she told him no uncertain terms to stop sticking his nose in where it wasn't wanted. Those werent her exact words, though. She used somewhat more _unseemly_ terms." Pomfrey looked, again, disapproving, and Hermione smiled slightly as she imagined the imaginative use of Pansy's extensive insult and swearing vocabulary that the blonde used. "There you go. Just keep pressing those gauzes onto the punctures as best as you can, and you can eat in my office."

"I'm not hungry." Hermione said. She was, actually, but she happened to be more anxious to get to Snape's class as close to on time as she could manage than she was about filling, or even half-filling her stomach.

"I don't care. This is lunch, one of your designated eating times, so you're going to eat if I have to feed you myself." Pomfrey said sharply. When Hermione looked at her in surprise, she sighed. "I'm sorry, but you're getting too thin. I know you skipped breakfast this morning, and you barely ate anything last night."

"Have you tasted the crap-"

"Language!"

"They make me eat? It's like poor-imitation spam. Liquefied pink cardboard. It's foul. Just eating it makes me feel sick. And trust me, I have gagged and thrown up on this stuff. It's no surprise that I don't want to eat it."

"The thing is, Hermione, you do have to eat it. Because if you don't, your body will get weaker until it starts shutting down unnecessary functions in order to ration it'self. Clearly it's already starving, which explains your current skeletal form."

"Hey!"

"If you were an anorexic, Miss Granger, you would be on a drip right now."

"I wish I was. On a drip, I mean." She added hastily at Pomfrey's disapproving look.

"Either way, you are starving yourself, perhaps not intentionally-"

"Because if my food tasted nicer I'd eat so much I think I'd explode I'm so hungry."

"Grit your teeth and bear it, Miss Granger."

"Hermione. Is there a food you don't like? Brussels? Mushrooms? Kippers?"

"I'm not fond of avacado."

"Imagine eating plain avacado, three times a day, every day, but fortunately it's only for the better part of a year and a half, and not being allowed to eat anything else ever until you die." At Pomfrey's face, Hermione nodded. "Now you can imagine how I feel. It's not the most pleasant thing in the world."

"Either way. You have to eat." She led Hermione into her office, and Hermione sighed at the plate of pink mush that she had to eat.

"It's in mush form today? How nice of them not to give it to me in jelly-like slabs." She said drily, sitting down on the chair and grabbing the fork beside the plate and started eating as quickly as she could.

"Pause to chew your food, Miss Granger." Pomfrey said reproachfully.

"It's mush, Madame. It doesn't need chewing. All the better – I can swallow it faster."

Either way, Hermione had only eaten half of it when she started feeling ill. She kept eating as much as she could, but when her throat constricted, she dropped the fork and leaned back, forcing herself to swallow.

"You've not eaten very much." Pomfrey noticed.

"I'll be sick if I eat any more." Hermione replied. She drank some more of her water, swished it around her mouth and then swallowed away the nasty taste. "Can I go to Potions now? I'm nearly half an hour late, and he's going to go more mental than McGonagall did."

"Professor McGonagall."

"Yes, her. So can I go?"

"Yes." Pomfrey sighed. "Try and watch out for magic."

"Are you kidding me? Every part of this castle is charmed. I'm breathing the damn stuff. It's a wonder I'm not dead already!"

"Miss Granger!"

"Joking, Madame!" Hermione called back, pulling on her robes, grabbing her bag, and heading as fast as she could down to the dungeons.

&


	7. Chapter 7

Hi everyone! I know I've been away a very long time, but to make it up to you I'm trying to upload as much as possible. Eighteen months is now finished so I'll upload all of that straight away. I'm still working on the others, and I'm going as fast as I can, so bear with me. I hope you enjoy this. Please tell me what you think. Istalindar

&

"How very kind of you to deign to grace us with your presence." Snape said coldly as Hermione rushed in.

"Sorry professor, Madame Pomfrey held me back."

"But you're still half an hour late."

"I got here as quick as I could, sir."

"Sit down. Twenty points from Gryffindor." With a resigned sigh, Hermione looked around for a seat and found the seat next to Pansy empty. She slid into it and put her bag on the floor, before realising the seat next to Ron was also empty and he was giving her a very dirty look.

"Oh, fuck." She muttered.

"Ten points and mind your mouth, Miss Granger." Snape said as he walked past. Hermione looked up at Ron and saw him signing 40 with his hands and had no confusion as to what he was talking about. So far she had lost forty points from Gryffindor for simply turning up late when it really wasn't her fault. Well…she had sworn as well. But who didn't when Snape was being an asshole?

"How'd it go?" Pansy asked out the corner of her mouth as they copied down the notes from the blackboard. They were learning a levitation potion, something Hermione was pretty sure she couldn't drink. Figures. Everyone gets to float but her.

"I got mushy pink cardboard. I'm starting to feel like the House elves sympathise."

"Did you manage to eat it all?" Pansy muttered.

"Same as usual – about half. I'm starting to think it's more the size of my stomach than anything else."

"It will have shrunk along with the rest of you."

"Thanks for that."

Pansy shrugged, and put down her quill. "Let's do this thing."

"Hold on a sec." Hermione quickly finished copying it down and then nodded. "Okies. Let's go."

The rest of the lesson was spent making the potion, which, as Hermione predicted, she had not been able to drink. Snape, with true Snapish style, had made it seem like a punishment.

"Miss Granger, I suggest that while the others try out their potions, you start research on the magical properties of carnelion. You can have a three scroll essay on that due in by Monday, and then you can start the reading for chapter two." The other students sneered at her…because what a day it was; Hermione Granger, star student and Head Girl, losing forty points on her first day, being excluded from what appeared to be a highly amusing potion and having an extra essay set.

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

"I'll give you fallen." Hermione muttered bitterly, packing away the potions equipment before sitting down and looking through the index for carnelian. It didn't take much reading for her to find out two things, one; that she had clearly missed this part of the book when she was reading it and two; Snape wasn't just being mean. Carnelian had fairly beneficial effects on the kidneys, and there were possibilities that it could be used to help kidney problems. She looked up and found Snape watching her carefully. She nodded to show she had understood and he turned away.

The thing with Professor Snape is while he was always an asshole, and appeared to take great glee in making Gryffindor lives miserable, in recent years he had started being that little bit more…it was hard to explain. It was things like the Carnelian essay. He always appeared to be mean, but in the end he was just trying to spur his students on to actually finding things out for themselves, to research and discover and learn ways to fix what was wrong with them.

Like failing kidneys.

Snape had, Hermione admitted privately to herself, gone up in her reckoning. She had always been curious about him, the deatheater that became a spy for good, who became a potions teacher who's main aim, more important to him than any lesson he taught, was to make his students _work_. She could see where he was coming from…nothing happened if you didn't work, you didn't learn, you didn't succeed, and it could be said that maybe you didn't even live your life to the fullest. Though that might be stretching it a little bit.

Either way, despite his harsh methods, Hermione had the sneaking feeling that all he was trying to do was help his wayward students, and certainly before the downfall of Voldemort last year, Hermione had been sure that he was simply trying to harden his students to the harshness that lay before them in life. Now…well, she was still working on his next excuse.

"Class dismissed." Hermione jerked out of her thoughts, and Pansy bent beside her.

"That fascinating, huh? Because I know for a fact that quill hasn't moved in the last five minutes."

"Just thinking."

"Think away, honeypie. I gotta dash…I have a moral obligation to have a word with Milicent about that skirt. Until she starts doing more exercise she has no right to wear a skirt that short."

"Miaow!" Hermione commented. Pansy shrugged.

"I'm using all my niceness on you. I feel the need to lash out on others. Excuse me, I have to go be mean." Pansy waved brightly and walked off, leaving Hermione alone at the bench, packing her stuff up. Nearly everyone else was gone, and Hermione closed her eyes briefly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She headed for the door, praying that the world would stop spinning, and then she felt everything go very still, just for a moment. And then it went black.

&

She woke on the floor, breathing in the sharp odour of sniffing salts. She recoiled away, using a hand to brush them away.

"Miss Granger?"

"I'm alright, I'm fine." She said, trying to struggle into a sitting position. Snape helped her, and she slumped forward, hanging her head and she blinked away the blackness in her peripheral vision.

"What do you remember?" Hermione was surprised at the gentleness of his voice.

"Walking out the room and everything going black. It's not a big deal, professor, I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"Lunch. Pomfrey made me."

"Madame Pomfrey." Snape said reprovingly.

"Yeah, her. I ate. Now I've fainted. Don't know why, though I'm certain there are at least two culprit's that could be blamed. Can I go now? I have an essay on carnelian to write."

"Go ahead, Miss Granger." He stepped back, the expression on his face unreadable.

"Thanks sir." She replied, scrambling to her feet and leaving the classroom as quickly as she could, passing Draco Malfoy much too close to the Potions door. He should have been…elsewhere, by now.

Well, fuck.

"What's going on?" He asked, jogging to catch up with her.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked as nonchalantly as possible.

"You _fainted_, Granger."

"It was just a temporary blackout, Malfoy. Not a big deal."

"Since when have you fainted?" He said, stepping in front of her and crossing his arms.

"I do it often enough that I'm not worried, Malfoy, though you're doing a pretty good imitation of it. You'd better be careful, or someone will think you care."

"I don't care, except that you're holding back on me, and I hate it when people do that."

"I know." Hermione muttered, stepping around him and carrying on.

"What are you talking about?" Malfoy demanded, jogging to catch up with her.

"Oh, Pansy told me."

"Told you what?"

"Nothing incriminating, Malfoy. Only that you hated it when people held out on you."

"I do!"

"So it would appear." She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes.

"So why are you holding out on me?" He demanded exhasperatedly.

"Because there's nothing to tell!" She exclaimed, the lie slipping from her mouth easily.

"You fainted!"

"I've not been eating enough!"

"Why?"

"Overworking, not hungry, stressed…you pick a reason." Hermione said, clutching her books to her chest and walking faster. She remembered again how quick Malfoy was – she was playing a dangerous game now, and she'd rather get out of this game as quickly as possible.

"I think you should pick a reason." Malfoy said determindly, matching her pace.

"I think you should mind your own bloody business." Hermione snapped back, pushing the door to the library open and slipping through so it nearly hit Malfoy in the face as he followed her.

"That was uncalled for." He complained.

"Quiet in the library, please!" Madame Pince called.

"You be quiet, you old bag." Hermione muttered. Malfoy sent her an incredulous and delighted look, before sitting at the table across from where she dropped her things. He watched as she paced along the shelves, picking a book or two out as she went.

She came back with an armful of five books and dropped them on the desk. "I swear they're getting heavier." She muttered. She looked up and caught Malfoy's eyes and quickly looked away. She slid into the seat and started working, ignoring Malfoy's heavy gaze on her.

The only sound in the library was the scratching of her quill against the parchement as she researched and wrote the essay on carnelians.

"So why did you get that essay?"

"Because Snape found my language and tardiness unbearable." Hermione said without looking up.

"But why carnelians? Our books don't have any relevant potions containing carnelians, and they aren't on the syllabus."

"But what would be the point in setting me an essay about a topic I already know everything about? You and Snape both know it would hardly be a punishement."

"I don't think it's a punishment." Malfoy stood. Hermione looked up. "I think it's more about whatever it is you won't tell me about."

"Maybe you should mind your business, Malfoy." Hermione said tartly. "I don't ask you about your home life and about your dad, and for me it's the same thing. I'd rather not talk about it, just like I'm sure you'd rather not talk about your home life and your dad."

"I think maybe you shouldn't make such dangerous assumptions." Malfoy said, his voice low and even. "I don't talk about my home life because people don't ask. They don't want to know." Hermione didn't have a comeback to that, and she was silent. "There are secrets enough in my life, Hermione. That's why I hate it when more present themselves." Malfoy spun on his heel and stalked out of the library, the door swinging violently after him.

Hermione watched him go, then lowered her head back to her work.

&

She next saw him at dinner when she braved the magic-filled food-scented hall just for the pleasure of being away from the damn infirmary. All her friends looked shocked to see her.

"Hermione! We thought you'd abandoned us." Dean said cheerfully, helping himself to more chicken.

"I've just been a little busy recently. Getting all my new term stuff sorted. Getting the homework schedules…"

"Hermione-things. Well, love, if it makes you happy." Dean cheerfully went back to discussing Quidditch with Seamus, and Hermione smiled to herself. She had always liked Dean.

"Harry, look. The infamous Miss Granger has come to join us!" Hermione's head jerked up and she saw Ron and Harry approaching. She scooted over, but reddened as they chose to sit on the other side of the table, a few seats down. She lowered her head and kept eating.

It was the same pink mess as always, but now it was charmed to look like the food everyone else was eating. It was unfortunate, because it was now giving her stomach-ache from the magic, but she found if she focused on the idea she was eating potatoes and chicken, it didn't seem to taste too bad.

"Did you hear about how she lost us forty points today?" She heard Ron say loudly. She sighed and kept eating.

"I heard she was anorexic." Lavender added..

"She can't be, she's eating." Seamus argued without looking up.

"Maybe she's just had a bad day." Dean added. "It's not like you've never lost us forty points in a day. As I recall, you two lost us a hundred in a night. You can hardly talk just because she's had a rough day."

"You do realise she's right here, don't you?" Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Pansy standing right behind her, and beyond Pansy, Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table looking unusually stormy. "Maybe you could save this conversation for the common room? Like, when she's not around?"

"Since when has it been your business, Parkinson?" Lavender snapped.

"Oh, didn't we tell you? Her new best friends are _Slytherins_." Harry added.

"I heard she was dating Malfoy." Parvati put in.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry said with venom.

"Will all of you just shut the fuck up?" Hermione demanded, standing up. There was stunned silence throughout the hall. "No, I'm not anorexic, or bulimic. Yes, I've had a bad day. No, I'm not dating Malfoy and yes, my best friend is a Slytherin because you Gryffindors are clearly _crap_ friends. Well, apart from Dean and Seamus, who appear to be the only decent ones in the lot of you! So much for Gryffindor ideals!" She slammed down her fork and stalked out of the hall.

"Well, bravo." Pansy said tightly, and the sound of scattered applause came from the Slytherin table. "And just when she was eating, as well."

"Shut up!" Ron snarled.

"We werent applauding _you_, Weasley." Draco said, coming over to stand at Pansy's shoulder, "We've known the lot of you were two-faced git's since the beginning…with, it seems, exceptions." He nodded in Dean and Seamus' direction. They looked shocked. "We were applauding her commendable performance."

"That's enough." McGonagall snapped. The applause from the Slytherin table petered off and she looked at her table. "I'm disappointed in almost all of you. Malfoy, there is no need to goad them further. Since you clearly can't be trusted to act as adults, every one of you who were rude about Miss Granger in the abhorrent way I just heard will have no Hogsmede trips until Halloween. So Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Brown, Miss Patil, you will not be leaving the grounds till Halloween, plus you shall all serve a weeks worth of detention with Mr Filch."

"What? Professor-"

"I suggest you keep silent, Miss Brown." McGonagall said tightly. "Or I'll make it two weeks for the lot of you." She swept off.

Malfoy smirked, and Harry saw. Unable to resist, he snapped.

"Don't be such a pretentious bastard. It's not like you've never been rude about her!"

"Yeah, but I didn't get caught, did I?" His smirk widened. "Wow, that's like…fifteen hours with Filch and no trips for eight weeks."

"Mr Malfoy, stop causing trouble and go back to the Slytherin table." Snape said, approaching them.

"Sure, professor." Malfoy and Pansy retreated to their table while the Gryffindors simmered in sulky silence. Soon after, Dean and Seamus left, mainly to get away from the dirty looks they were getting.

&

That night Hermione sat in the sideroom alone, watching her blood flowing into the dialysis machine. She had cried earlier, but all traces of it were gone, apart from the redness around her eyes. She wondered where it had all gone wrong – at the end of sixth year she had been Gryffindor's golden girl, best friends with Harry and Ron…but at some point over the summer it had all gotten fucked up somehow. It couldn't be the kidneys or the allergies…the Gryffindors didn't know about them. The only thing she could think of was Harry and Ron walking in on the train and seeing her talking with Pansy and Draco. They had seemed friendly enough until they realised she was actually friends with them. That's when it had gotten ugly. So how had an interhouse friendship managed to smash one of the strongest friendships of Hermione's life?

The machine beeped and Hermione sighed, reaching over to switch it off. The whole separate-from-everyone thing was getting really old.

"Madame Pomfrey?"

"Coming dear." Hermione waited and then watched as Pomfrey bustled through the door, immediately starting to take out the needles from Hermione's inside elbows and firmly pressing gauzes against the miniscule holes. "So how do you feel?"

"Knackered." Hermione answered.

"You should try and get more sleep."

"Probably." Hermione shrugged. "But I go to bed as soon as I finish here in the evenings, so I do the best I can."

"Hmm." Pomfrey said noncommitally. "Off you go then, dear. And please try and eat more."

"I can only try." Hermione said with a wry grin before sliding off the narrow hospital bed and disappearing out the door.

The halls were empty, and dimly lit. She passed the Ravenclaw dorm, and then the Hufflepuff dorm, and finally the Gryffindor dorm. She paused slightly by the door regarding the paintings that hung innocently and inconspicuously from the wall. The Pink Lady coughed.

"Password, Head Girl?" She asked primly.

"I don't want to go in." Hermione replied, "Just…remembering."

"You were such a good Gryffindor." The painting commented.

"I am still a Gryffindor." Hermione replied hotly.

"You were sorted a Gryffindor, though you don't really spend time with them now."

"They've been nasty to me."

"Come now, Miss Granger! You sound about five!"

"Have you heard what they said?" Hermione asked quietly with a sigh.

"They're saying you're consorting with Slytherins and you've abandoned them."

"That's not all they're saying, Bernadette." Hermione shrugged. "Have a listen. Then you can decide for yourself who's the villain in this little story."

"I'm sure there's no villain, Miss Granger." The pink lady tutted. "You were all such good friends."

"We were." Hermione said, her voiced laced with wistfullness. "I don't know what happened, Bernadette. It was so random. Over the summer…I sent owls and no one returned them. Ron said he was glad I wasn't at the Burrow, Harry's being so…he's changed, Bernadette, gone hard. He's not like he used to be."

"Maybe. But maybe you should give him a chance? I mean, what he's gone through, it's bound to change a man."

"Yes, it is." Hermione agreed quietly.

"Hold on a sec." The pink lady swung open and Harry and Ron came through the door.

"Forgotten the password, have we?" Ron asked scornfully. "Not surprised. Bet you remember the Slytherin password."

"I don't _know_ the Slytherin password." Hermione shot back. "Though I bet you could be pretty familiar with it."

"I'm not the one hanging out with Slytherins."

"Ron, why are you being so horrible?" Hermione hated the pleading young tone in her voice.

"You abandoned us, Hermione." Harry filled in. "You didn't come to the Burrow. You didn't send any letters. You hang out with Slytherins."

"I didn't come to the Burrow because I was ill. And I _did_ send letters. I sent one at the beginning of summer asking what you guys were up to, and then another at your birthday with a present. And I know you received the owls, because Ginny replied to the first one." Harry stared at her, and she returned the gesture stonily.

"Come on Harry. We've got better things to do." Ron said, walking off without a backwards glance. Harry shrugged.

"Whatever." He followed Ron and Hermione sighed and swallowed forcefully.

"I see what you mean, Miss Granger." Bernadette commented softly. Hermione smiled slightly and shook her head.

"Oh well, Bernadette. I tried, I guess. I don't understand what's wrong…but whenever I try to work it out with them, I get shot down."

"You've done all you can."

"I suppose so. G'night Bernadette."

"Good night Miss Granger. Sleep well." Hermione waved and walked off, muttering under her breath.

"If only."

&

A couple of weeks later, Hermione slipped into the common room after dialysis and winced at the loud noise the portrait made as it rolled up then let it'self flutter down behind her. The thing was so bloody loud!

The common room, as ever, was dark apart from the soft glow from the coals in the huge fireplace, and Hermione realised without surprise that the Head Boy was up. It wasn't unusual – every night so far that she had come back from dialysis he had been there. He didn't always say something, but she always felt him watching her as she went up the stairs.

Tonight she said nothing as she passed him, the sharp scent of vinegar assaulting her nose as she crossed the room. He was clearly eating, again. Probably a salad or something. Hermione had taken to trying to guess the food, because in the dark she only had the smell to go by. It was a sad form of amusement. Especially when she considered the fact that she barely remembered what a salad tasted like, having been eating pink mush since halfway through the summer. A knot of jealousy twisted in her stomach, and she savagely pushed it down.

"I don't suppose I need to ask where you've been." Draco said out of the darkness. Hermione sighed, then froze as she heard him get off the couch. "Hospital wing?"

"Yep." She did not elaborate.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Nope." Hermione started walking again, heading towards her door which was only a couple of feet away. Reach that, and she'd be safe from Draco's insightful questions.

Suddenly a pale blue light shot past her head, causing her to flinch away. The light engulfed her door, leaving it glowing softly. She took a few cautious steps backwards.

"Malfoy, undo it." She said tiredly.

"Why don't you? Anyway, it won't hurt you. Just walk through it."

"Malfoy!" Hermione snapped. "I am not in the mood for your games tonight!"

"Funny, because I'm not playing." The blue light that engulfed her door converged and slid down onto the floor, a sinuous snake of glittering blue magic. Hermione leapt backwards, her eyes wide with panic, and landed right on her backside.

Hermione laughed harshly. "Pretty, Malfoy. Now get it away from me!" Almost in response to her panicked plea, the snake slid closer. Hermione scrambled backwards, stopping only when she felt Malfoy's legs hard behind her back.

"It's only magic, G." He said softly from above her. "Why are you so scared all of a sudden?"

"I'm not scared." Hermione denied.

"Oh? So why do you panic when it moves closer?" The snake obligingly slid closer, inches away from Hermione's feet. She drew them up closer to her, but still felt the magic pulsing before her, her head throbbing in response. Hermione pressed herself tighter against Malfoy's legs, anything to be further away from the glowing snake that seemed to be eyeing her as it would it's next meal.

"Malfoy!" Hermione took a deep breath, as though the entire ordeal cost her a great deal of energy. "_Please_."

There was the sound of Malfoy's sharp intake of breath and the snake disappeared, throwing the room into surprising darkness. He stepped back and she fell backwards slightly, bereft of the support his legs had provided.

She felt his hands on her upper arms, lifting her effortlessly to her feet and steering her towards the couch. He sat her down then sat across from her and turned on the lamp that sat on the sidetable by the arm of the couch. In the light she could see the stubborn set of his face, and felt her heart sink. She had managed to avoid/evade his questions until now, not giving him solid answers since the confrontation in the library at the beginning of term, but she could tell that this time he wasn't going to let it go.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked flatly. Hermione sighed, leaning on the armrest of her couch and shucking off her shoes before tucking her feet underneath her.

"What's right with me?" She returned. At Malfoy's steady look, she sighed and closed her eyes. "I've not been well. I'm still not well, if we're going to play the honesty game here. On the up side, I'm pretty sure it's not permanent."

"What won't be permanent? And why would you think it would be permanent?" Malfoy probed.

"I _don't_ think it'll be permanent." Hermione corrected.

"Fine. What won't be permanent?" He repeated.

"What do you think is wrong with me?" Hermione asked, interested to know what he knew or thought he knew about her condition. "I know you have some idea from the little door-and-snake trick."

"Something about magic has you spooked. You're scared of it." Malfoy said matter-of-factly. He paused, and Hermione nodded for him to continue. "And there's something else – something to do with that goliath of a machine you were hooked up to in the hospital wing a couple of weeks ago."

"You're right on both counts." Hermione conceded with a small smile. She could see a way out of this now – small white lies were involved, but this was Malfoy, for goodness sakes. "I am now bloody terrified of magic. It's a recent phobia, and I don't mind doing magic, although the idea of someone doing magic on or towards me is enough to…to make me…pretty desperate." She shrugged. "The machine in the hospital wing is basically just to make sure I don't go along and accidentally kill myself. It's really complicated and long, so I'm not going to try to explain it all. It's not really that important anyway."

"Why would you accidentally kill yourself?" Malfoy asked, leaning back into the couch and stretching his arms out along the back of it, his long legs sprawled in front of him.

"It's a funny old world." Hermione stretched out her legs before turning sideways on the couch so her legs were stretched out on the cushions in front of her. "You never know what will happen."

"And this magic-phobia. How did that get started off? Did someone attack you during the holidays?" His voice seemed oddly calm, almost flat.

"No one attacked me." Hermione answered calmly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't have overlooked something like that." Hermione smiled. "I basically woke up one day and the thought of magic being done on or towards me turned me into a version of what you saw earlier. There's no real cause for it." She yawned hugely, not bothering to cover her it with her hand. "Can I go to bed now?"

"Yeah, sure." Malfoy said distractedly. "Sorry for keeping you up." Hermione frowned at him before shrugging.

"No biggie. See you tomorrow." She pushed herself off the couch and wandered into her bedroom, stripping and climbing into the big curved bed without turning the light on.

&


	8. Chapter 8

&

Hermione and Pansy sat talking in the sideroom off the hospital wing the next morning, Hermione sipping liquid pink mush through a straw and Pansy chowing down on a fruit salad, toast and a cinnamon roll, a glass of grapefruit juice sitting within easy reach.

"So you told him?" Pansy asked, popping a grape into her mouth.

"Not exactly." Hermione hedged, looking uncomfortable. At Pansy's sharp look, Hermione grew defensive. "I couldn't exactly tell him straight out, could I?" She demanded.

"Why not?"

"Because he's Malfoy!"

"And I'm Pansy née Parkinson. You told me."

"You told me about your dad though." Hermione pointed out.

"You're missing my point honey. He's not the same Malfoy that's been hounding you for years, love. He grew up."

"That doesn't mean I should tell him."

"Do you trust him?"

"Were you not listening when I told you about what he did with the snake and my door?" Hermione demanded, annoyed.

"I was listening. Do you trust him?"

Hermione was silent for a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of Pansy slurping her grapefruit juice.

"I don't know." Hermione said finally. "I mean, before last night, I'd say, grudgingly, yes. He's not given me any reason not to trust him, past grievances aside. But after last night – he knew I was scared of magic, Pans. And he still did that."

"He thought it would scare you, not hurt you."

"Still. Can I trust someone who scares me?"

"How about Snape? Do you trust him?" Pansy asked.

"What's he got to do with this?" Hermione asked, confused.

"He scares you, right?"

"No. He kinda confuses me though. I mean, he's all 'I hate Gryffindors and you're in deep shit so do this essay' but then the essay is specifically designed to make you learn for yourself a way of…I don't know. Making your life better. Like the beginning of term; he gave me an essay on carnelian. And carnelian is the key ingredient in lots of medipotions regarding kidneys. So he made me feel miserable, made the others hate me, and yet steered me in a possible direction for a cure."

"So you worked it out, huh?" Pansy asked smugly.

"You knew?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Of course I knew! All the smart Slytherins knew. It's his way of singling out the best, you see. The essays he gives help us learn things we need to know – it's one of the reasons there were surprisingly few clever Slytherins dead on the field that morning."

Hermione remembered her surprise, the way Voldemort had seemed to dissolve into black sludge and deatheaters all around fell down dead just as the sun edged it's way over the field. It was such a cliché, the rising sun just as the good side won. But she remembered how she had turned around to evaluate the numbers of the light army and had seen more Slytherins than she had imagined, glamours wearing off left right and center to reveal the familiar faces of those who had victimised the other houses for years.

The school population was still down, though the remaining students all seemed committed to their work in a way the old set hadnt been. There was less interhouse hatred, though it still flourished – Ron and Harry were clear examples of that.

"So can you?"

"Can I what?" Hermione asked, shaking herself from her reverie.

"Can you trust someone who scares you." Pansy pressed, finishing the fruit salad and starting in on the cinnamon roll. Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy's rapturous face as the blonde chewed the sugary cinnamon pastry.

"I don't know." She answered with a shrug, "That's the short answer, anyway."

"He doesn't want to hurt you, you know."

"If he did he would have done it by now, instead of supporting me and everything else weird and out of character he's been doing recently."

"It's not so out of character, really." Pansy argued around a mouthful of roll.

"That's gross."

"Sorry." She swallowed. "Maybe you should just get to know the guy before you start passing judgements."

"You sound like your dad."

"That's cause I'm right, and so's he. Incidentally, what _did_ you tell him?"

"Who? Your dad or Malfoy?"

"Draco, you idiot. You didn't tell him the truth, so what did you tell him?"

"That I had a magic phobia and that my dear little pal here," she nodded at the dialysis machine, "Is here to stop me accidentally killing myself. It's true." Pansy rolled her eyes.

"And as glorious a set of half-truths as I've ever seen." She proclaimed, flinging her arms wide. "Honestly, Hermione." She said, calming down. "Why can't you just tell him the truth?"

"About what?" Hermione asked harshly, "That I'm dying of a deadly disease and there is no cure, plus the fact that I'm allergic to magic and chances are, that's actually what's killing me by inflaming my kidneys? Oh yeah, great plan."

"What's wrong with it? The way things are now, Malfoy's gonna realise you havent told the whole truth and is going to start hounding you again, and I know you don't want that. He's not like Potter and Weasley, Hermione. You can't throw him off the trail. He's just allowing your lies for the moment because he knows he doesn't know any better, but as soon as he finds the discrepancy, you're going to be back at square one. And the more lies you tell, the more determined he'll be to find out what's wrong."

"I'm not telling lies!" Hermione protested. "I am afraid of magic. And this machine does stop me dying. So I told the truth."

"But not the truth he asked for." Pansy finished. "You realise how he's going to be when he finds out?"

"Annoyed. And houndy. Much with the hounding." Hermione filled in.

"Annoyed. Angry. Betrayed."

"Betrayed?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"You're one of the few people he can count on to tell the truth. You always have done – calling him on his behaviour, not putting up with anything he puts on. Now you're lying to him."

"I didn't lie!" Hermione exclaimed. "I just didn't tell the whole truth."

"I don't think you realise how…serious this is. It's only a month into the term and you've sparked his interest. He won't be pleased when he finds out-"

"You're starting to repeat yourself, Pansy." Hermione commented. "And I do know there's going to be a tetchy period when he works it's out. But I'll deal with it when it comes."

"You're playing with fire, my girl." Pansy warned, shaking her head and gathering her dishes.

"That's funny. I always thought of Draco as more ice than fire." Hermione replied. Pansy studied her solemnly for a moment.

"Ice can trap and drown you." She said eventually, before slipping from the room just as the dialysis machine beeped.

"Dramatic much?" Hermione muttered.

Despite her sarcasm, Hermione was well aware of that fact. She had it from personal experience, if nothing else. There was a lake near her home and the winter of her fifth birthday it froze over. She had been sliding across it when the ice cracked, and she fell in.

Her next door neighbour Alex had pulled her out, carrying her home sopping wet and shivering and she had been sick for weeks. But it was nothing compared to the harrowing memory of being trapped, looking up in the clear water and seeing the ice above her, green-brown with dirt.

But in terms of Malfoy's feelings, she knew she had never truly been on the receiving end of any of his emotions – she had realised halfway through third year that he only called her mudblod to irritate Ron. But despite how she had annoyed him, she was well aware she had never been on the receiving end of his anger – ever. And she knew he had it in him. Passing an unused classroom at the beginning of sixth year she had seen him acting on pure fury. He had been reading a letter, sealed with the Malfoy seal. That had been on the floor, and he had been pale faced and frozen-eyed as he threw a chair against a wall and watched imperviously as it shattered, spraying the room with splinters. He had thrown inkwells, chairs…anything he could find. And at the end he had fixed everything with the relevant charm, and before she had been able to leave, he had turned and seen her. They had stood, him in the classroom and her in the hall, watching each other. And then she had fled.

Other times she had seen it as a burning fury that made her want to run, a fury quickly covered by icy indifference. She had never pressed, knowing that some risks just werent meant to be taken.

Others, on the other hand, were unavoidable.

Like the bloody classes she continually went to. Hermione was no idiot – every morning when she showered she saw how her body was wasting away, in part from the food but also from the magic, wearing her down, destroying her immune system. Every week she had to shrink the waist around her skirt, tighten her shirt, shrink her jumper. Every day she saw how she was beginning to be able to count her ribs, how her hip bones stuck out stark and white against her taut skin.

She didn't understand people who wanted to be thin. She'd give anything to be Millicent's size right now.

But the classes, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures – every time she walked into the room the air was thick with a smog of magic that she breathed in. The only classes she could attend without feeling continually sick or faint was Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes.

She was sick of it.

Every class, sitting noting what the class did and practicing it in her own time. Copying paragraphs from the board and the textbook. Sitting and watching while the class laughed or messed around or hexed each other good-naturedly.

Apparently it wasn't enough for her illnesses to suck her life away, to cut it short. But now they were taking the fun out of it, making her spend each waking moment more bored than the next. It almost made her want to curse herself.

The library was empty – all the others were at lessons. She should have double Transfiguration right now, but McGonagall had sent her a note the night previous telling her she didn't need to come. Hermione was just about ready to just ask all the teachers for their lesson plans and skip all her classes and teach herself, though she loathed that prospect. It would only work for the magical ones anyway.

"Why aren't you in class?"

"Because it reduces me to a shivering wreck." Hermione answered dully without looking up. "You should be in class too, you know."

"Herbology was cancelled. Some stupid Hufflepuff got attacked by the spiny whatever-it's-called…line of teeth-marks in her neck. Sprout took her to the hospital wing." Malfoy slid into the chair across from her, a bag of raisins in his hand. "Reduces you to a shivering wreck, huh?" He smirked as he looked over at where she sat copying notes from her Transfiguration textbook.

"Yep. Makes me hysterical and everything." Hermione agreed, still copying. She wanted him to go away, go away and let her study without having to worry about letting on.

"I talked to Pansy."

Hermione ignored him, though a stab of panic passed through her. Pansy wouldn't have told, would she?

"She backed up your story."

Hermione looked up, laying her quill down and marking her page in the textbook.

"It's not a story." She contradicted evenly.

"It's kind of story like." Malfoy drawled, tipping back on his chair so the back leaned on the bookcase. He crossed his arms defiantly.

"Most things told in the past tense are." She commented calmly, refusing to lose her cool but wishing he'd get to the point.

"I think you're telling stories."

"Okay."

"Why won't you tell me the truth?"

"Wizard Merlin on a fucking bike, Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed in a loud failed whisper. "I am telling you the goddamn truth! Why would I bother lying to you, when all you do is hound me?"

"See, that's what I don't know."

"How would you like it if I asked about your father constantly?" She demanded. His eyes iced over, the grey as hard as granite.

"It's not a subject you'd enjoy exploring." He said shortly.

"I wouldn't think it was." She replied, her voice quiet. She sighed. "Malfoy, I have told you the truth, no matter what you believe. Magic scares the bejeezus out of me, and the machine in the hospital wing is keeping me from killing myself."

"Why would you kill yourself?"

"I have to be careful." She began, her mind racing as she searched for an explanation that would satisfy him but not give it away. "What I do. What I eat. The machine regulates my blood. Makes sure it doesn't end up being my own poison."

"So you could die?" He asked, his voice deceptively casual.

"I could die. But…so could you. So could Pansy. Thousands of people can die from colds, so it's really not that big a deal."

"You dying is a big deal."

"Easy Malfoy. People will start thinking you care." She smirked.

"Anyone dying is a big deal, Granger. It doesn't really matter who they are." He retorted.

"See, that's better." Hermione smiled brightly, but it faded against his stony face. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to smile." She commented, suddenly irritated.

"Not had a lot to be smiling about." Malfoy shrugged.

"Okay. Spill." Hermione marked her page with a scrap of parchment and shut the book decisively. She folded her arms on the table and rested her chin on her hands.

"Spill what?" At her steady gaze, he rolled his eyes. "You want my sob stories." He said flatly.

"You keep wanting mine, despite the fact you already have them." Hermione grouched. "Turnabout's fair play."

"Hello? Slytherin. We don't do fair play."

"Hello? Don't care." Hermione retorted. "What's wrong."

"I'm annoyed." He said. At her raised eyebrow, he sighed. "And pissed off. And impatient, and fuck it, I just don't bloody care anymore!" he consciously made an effort to lower his voice, which had gradually gotten louder over the last exclamation. "It's like…after everything it's so bloody tiring. Dad trying to convince everyone he's innocent, and _succeeding_, dammit! Mum drunk or drugged off her head nearly twenty-four-seven. I'm left to run everything, plus I'm still expected to pull through. The one true and legimate success of Lucius Malfoy, his golden son. Rich, smart, good-looking." Hermione said nothing, her gaze never wavering at she focused on Malfoy.

"No comment? You missed your chance to tell me how big headed I am." He said mockingly, his eyes locking with hers.

"I don't think I need to." Hermione shrugged. "I think you understand already. Carry on."

"Why should I? Why should I tell you the morbid secrets of the Malfoy family?" He demanded.

"Because I asked, because you need to tell someone, and because you and I are alone in this library and no-one's going to interrupt us for another hour and a half."

"That's hardly a good reason to tell you the story of my life." Malfoy said flatly. Hermione didn't reply. He waited, until finally the silence beat him into talking. "What do you want to know?"

"Anything. Everything. Whatever you feel like sharing. Is you dad the paragon of rich nobility that people seem to think he is or is your dad really as awful to you as I always thought he was? Has he always been like that? Why is your mum off her head all the time?" She paused. "What went wrong?"

"Voldemort went wrong. My dad…I have to say, Potter was the best thing that had ever happened to my family. The years when I was young…he was strict, didn't take crap from anyone. But, he did have a heart. I think he loved my mother, though it was hard to tell, and I think he might have loved me, though it seemed the only way he could show it was by buying me things."

Malfoy studied the attentive girl before him. She regarded him with a steady brown gaze that didn't waver; her face set in serious, concentrated lines as she listened to him. Her hair was half drawn up in a ponytail, the frizzy brown strands falling over her tiny shoulders. Her arms were folded on the desk and her pointed chin rested on top of them. There was something…wrong about her. It was nothing to do with the way she looked, but there was something about her that just wasn't right. It reinforced Malfoy's conviction that she was keeping the truth from him.

"Then when rumours of Voldemort started coming back, he…changed. Got harder. All of a sudden he was living up to this position of his, right-hand of the Dark Lord. At the time I was like, 'Wow, cool. My dad's the Big Bad's right hand.' And then after a while, I was always wondering where this great Dark Lord was. Every so often other deatheaters would visit, and I'd be paraded in front of them, and as I got to know them I started to understand more about Slytherin House. Most of the people in there are everything Slytherin is meant to be; cunning, ambitious, clever, looking for power. There's a few of us though…have you ever thought about the Sorting Hat and how stupid it is? It judges us by how we are when we're eleven. How we could be at eleven. But now…we're so different. Me, Pansy, _you_. We're not the people we were." He paused. "Do you know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean." Her voice was soft. She smiled slightly, and Malfoy found himself fighting the urge to flinch at the way the expression twisted her face mockingly. Something was very wrong. "Harry and Ron aren't exactly exemplary Gryffindors. You and Pansy aren't exactly stereotypical Slytherins." She shrugged. "I don't see how I've changed though."

"Something about you has. You don't seem to be any house, now."

"Thanks." She said drily.

"It was meant to be a compliment. Sometimes…sometimes you just seem so damn high, like you're above everyone. And I look at Pansy around you, and I look at you myself and there's such…" he trailed off. "Life in Slytherin House is all about manipulation, you know? To them, Pansy and I are still the top of the hierarchy, though we've ceased to be Slytherins in everything but name and badge. Every Slytherin is a convincing actor – we have to be. And Pansy and I are the best." He paused. "How did I get onto this?"

"Talking about how Slytherin is about manipulation, the Sorting Hat is appropriate for how we were seven years ago…about your dad and Voldemort." Hermione filled in. Malfoy noticed her omission about herself but didn't comment about it, tossing a handful of raisins into his mouth.

"Thanks. I don't know…after Potter killed Voldemort, my dad seems kind of…I'd say lost but that isnt the right word. It's like he's finally finding himself again. I don't mean finding himself in the weird New-Agey way, but like, all those years when I was little he was just biding his time, waiting for Voldemort to come back. Now, he's realised he actually has to y'know, make his life for himself."

"But surely that would be positive? I mean, it's like a new start." Hermione said, frowning.

"Hardly. He's experienced power and now he's gone all power-mad. Not in the meglomaniac sense that Voldemort was, but dad's just gonna use what he learned from Voldemort to raise himself in the magical world. Not that there's much higher for him to go." Malfoy shrugged. "My mum has her medication, and her fancy expensive spirits. And I just muddle along as best I can."

"I'd hardly call it muddling." Hermione said. "You seem to be doing okay."

"I'm not doing too badly, no." Draco shrugged. "Unlike you." Hermione sighed.

"Can we not?" She pleaded.

"There is something fundamentally wrong about you, G! And no matter what you tell me, I know it's not the truth because I can still feel the wrongness about you!" he exclaimed, letting his chair fall onto all four legs so he could lean forward and meet her stare. "So why won't you bloody well tell me?"

"Okay." Hermione said, finally giving in. It wasn't like she had to tell him _everything_, was it? "Fine. I'll tell you."

"Really? Or are you going to tell me yet more half truths?" He asked. She raised her eyebrows. "You didn't honestly think I swallowed all that crap you gave me the other night? I thought I told you that Slytherins were the actors."

"You did."

"Gryffindors just aren't used to lying the way we are. It makes it easier to spot."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. So?"

"Okay. You can't tell anyone, alright?"

"Who knows now?"

"Pansy, Dumbledore, Pomfrey, all the class teachers. That's it at Hogwarts."

"Out of Hogwarts?" he pressed.

"Not that it's any of your business, but just my parents and my doctor." Hermione said. "Right." She took a deep breath, and let it out with a laugh as Malfoy made himself comfortable, leaning back in his chair and putting his huge feet on the table. "Malfoy!"

"What?" he asked. "And anyway, it's Draco. Only weirdo people call me Malfoy."

"What kind of statement is that?" Hermione demanded with a smile.

"An exaggerated one. So now that I'm comfy, you can tell me what's wrong with you."

"It's not much, actually. But don't laugh."

"G, what makes you think I'd laugh?" He asked seriously.

"Draco, I laughed when I found out. It's really ironic, actually." Hermione shrugged. "Okay, here goes. I'm allergic to magic, and I have kidney failure." Malfoy stared at her. "What?" she asked.

"You have a magic allergy?" He asked incredulously.

"See, this is the bit where I laughed but you're not allowed to." Hermione said, her lips twisting into a hint of a smile.

"No, it's just that those are really rare, and it's almost always purebloods that have them." He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Are you sure you're not a pureblood?"

"Not that I know of. Just little old Mudblood Granger, that's me."

"Don't say that. Little is right, though. What's with that, anyway? Half the school's saying you're anorexic or something." Draco said

"Well, I'm not." Hermione huffed, folding her arms. "I just have to have a really strict diet so I don't screw up my kidneys and make myself really sick. However, my really strict diet consists of pink mush and water, which makes me all kinds of sick anyway, so I can't eat very much without being sick which results in me getting thinner."

"But you're not going to starve to death?"

"Hardly. I eat too much for that." Hermione snorted.

"You clearly don't eat enough though."

"I eat enough to stay alive." She retorted.

"Barely." Draco drawled.

"Can we not?" He laughed at her repeated plea.

"Sure."

"You happy now?"

"Yeah, yeah I am. You finally told me the truth, I can finally stop hounding you. It's all good."

"It's all shit, actually, we were meant to be at Potions ten minutes ago." Hermione commented, scooping her school stuff up and shoving it in her bag before swinging it onto her shoulder and waiting at the door as Draco grabbed his stuff and caught up with her before they both started down to the bowels of the castle for potions.


	9. Chapter 9

&

They ran in, ten minutes later, and Hermione slipped into her now-customary seat by Pansy.

"Where have you been?" Pansy hissed.

"Much as I'm sure the Headmaster will be pleased about how you two are developing interhouse relations, it's not a good enough reason to justify being late to my lesson. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

"But professor-" Hermione shut up as Pansy's hand clamped around her wrist.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Snape asked silkily.

"Nothing, sir." She answered finally.

"Good. Now, today we're going to be making a potion designed to treat internal injuries. Ingredients are on the board, instructions are on page 73." There was a pause. "Well? What are you waiting for, written permission from your parents?"

The room filled with scurried activity as the students got to work.

"So what happened?" Pansy demanded quietly as they carefully measured potions ingredients, few of which, Hermione noticed, were magical. Funny thing, that.

"I told him." Hermione whispered as she stirred in seven chopped lemonbalm leaves.

"You did? The whole thing?"

"About the allergy and the kidney failure, yep."

"So you didn't tell him everything." Pansy sounded downcast. Hermione frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"He doesn't know that you…you know. No point in planning too far ahead and all that."

"He doesn't need to know that." Hermione muttered resolutely.

"Dammit." Pansy swore, "Why can't you just tell him the truth?" she hissed as she dropped a handful of chopped chillies into the cauldron, making the mixture smoke and turn red.

"I have been, all along. He wanted to know what's wrong with me and I bloody well told him!"

"Well, bravo." Pansy rolled her eyes. "But you know that when he finds out-"

"You know, I'm so totally sick of this. Can we talk about something else?" Hermione asked coldly. Pansy shrugged, unaffected by Hermione's change in tone.

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy's measured sarcasm.

"Your latest conquest. So who's it this time?" Hermione said, trying desperately to change the subject.

"This _dreamy_ Hufflepuff called Tom Morrow." Hermione snickered, and Pansy glared. "Do you want me to continue or not?"

"Sorry, please go on." Hermione said apologetically.

"Anyway, dreamy Hufflepuff. He's not the brightest tool in the box, granted, but my _my_ is he hot and, hello, amazing with his hands."

"Pansy!" Hermione exclaimed under her breath. Pansy grinned and wriggled her fingers and Hermione looked away.

"Prude."

"Hey!" Hermione protested. "That was totally unnecessary."

"But you didn't, I notice, deny it." Pansy pointed out gleefully.

"Look, just because I don't parade it around like some people I know, doesn't mean I'm a prude."

"What's this?" Draco leaned over, the wickedly mischievious expression on his face demonstrating that he had been listening in for some time. "G, not a prude? Well, someone _will_ have to alert the papers!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Must we continue to pry into my private life?" Hermione sighed dramatically.

"Oh, don't be such a martyr! You love it." Pansy said dismissively.

"No, you love it. Me, I prefer to avoid all enroachments of any sort into my private life. I like it, strangely enough, kept _private_."

"She's got a point, Parkinson." He agreed. Hermione shot him a startled look and he grinned at her. "Private lives, for those of us who actually have them, are usually private."

"Unless you have a pair of Slytherins being bloody nosy!" Hermione retorted. The silence in the classroom suddenly attracted her attention and she looked up so see the entire class staring at her, including Professor Snape. She blushed and looked down.

"Something you'd like to share with the rest of us, Miss Granger?" Snape asked coldly. "Because if you have a problem with Slytherins being 'bloody nosy', you might try saving the conversation for out of my lessons and somewhere more private."

"Sorry sir." Hermione muttered.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor. Now, if I may continue…" His voice faded out as Draco leaned over.

"So anyway-" he began.

"Later, Draco." Hermione interrupted, and turned back to her work.

&

"We missed you at lunch." Pansy dropped into the seat next to Hermione in the library and Draco followed suit, eating chocolate raisons. Hermione shrugged.

"Really not hungry."

"You do have to eat, you know." Draco lectured.

"Yes dad." Hermione said sarcastically.

"Up." Pansy said suddenly. Draco and Hermione stared at her. She stared back. "Get up!"

"Why?" Draco asked, frowning. Pansy sighed.

"Not you, G. I want a hug." Hermione rolled her eyes and stood up. Pansy stood and hugged her before stepping back and lifting the hem of her untucked shirt.

"Pansy!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping back and smoothing her shirt.

"You're thinner." Pansy said flatly.

"See? This is what I'd rather you werent nosy about!" Hermione exclaimed, crossing her arms protectively across her chest.

"How much thinner?" Draco asked, standing up. Hermione spun and smiled brightly.

"It's not that bad, really. I've seen thinner people."

"Yeah, in a hospital. Show him." Pansy ordered.

"Are you kidding me? Not a chance." Hermione snapped.

"Hermione, be honest with him for once. He's your friend and he wants to help. So stop holding back and just let him in for Merlin's sakes!" Pansy huffed. Hermione and Draco stared at each other for a moment before she sighed.

"Okay. But promise you won't freak out and start lecturing me." She said warningly. Draco nodded. She took a deep breath and pulled her shirt up to her bra, revealing her ribs and hugely concave stomach. Draco said nothing, though his face was set and hard. He lightly ran his fingers over her ribs, and down over the soft cool flesh of her sides. Then he took her shirt from her hands and pulled it down so it covered her thinness. She stepped back. "Draco?"

"You need to eat." He said simply. He turned away. "I'm going for a wander." Hermione and Pansy watched him disappear among the bookshelves. Hermione sat down and opened her transfiguration text again, and Pansy watched in amazement as she settled back down to work. Pansy sat down huffily.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Well, what?" Hermione looked up.

"That wasn't a standard Draco reaction." Pansy said flatly.

"Then maybe I should feel honoured that my emaciation horrified him then." Hermione said sweetly, her tone laced with venom.

"Horrified? Yes, but only in the sense he's worried about you!" Pansy exclaimed, leaning across the table to get closer to Hermione. "Dammit, he cares whether you live or die, Hermione!"

"Pansy, please. I have bucketloads of homework to do." Hermione said tiredly.

"Don't run away from us." Pansy warned. "We want to help you."

"Well, you can't." Hermione didn't look up. There was a moments pause, then Pansy nodded.

"I'll see you later." She got up and left the library, leaving Hermione alone. She stared blankly at the transfiguration page before it blurred with tears. She covered her mouth and bit back sobs, forcing herself to breathe normally. The crying passed almost before it had begun.

&

Hermione was alone in the dialysis room that night, with neither Draco nor Pansy coming to see her. She had forgotten the isolation that dialysis alone made her feel. After all, Pansy had been coming to dialysis almost every time since the Slytherin girl had found out about Hermione's conditions, and Draco ever since he stumbled on the room. But now…it was different than if they simply couldn't make it. It was just that they werent going to, because she had been stupid and stubborn and so ruddy independent.

She rather despised herself sometimes. Especially when she was all maudlin like this.

Stupid kidneys.

Stupid allergy.

"So how are you feeling Miss Granger?" Madame Pomfrey said cheerily

"Oh…okay, I guess. I'm not in any pain as such. Just…"

"What?" Pomfrey perched on the edge of Hermione's hospital bed.

"Oh…Draco and Pansy got upset when they realised how thin I was getting." Pomfrey nodded and started taking out the needles and swabbing the tiny holes in Hermione's arms.

"That's understandable. But let me look, just to see that you're not dangerously thin."

"I am dangerously thin. That's the point." Hermione commented acidly. Pomfrey stood up and folded her arms under her ample busom and glared balefully at Hermione until she reluctantly swung her legs off the bed and stood up, dragging her shirt up to her shoulders.

"Off. I can hardly see like that." Hermione sighed but did as she was told, unbuttoning her blouse and shucking it off her thin arms. Pomfrey looked at her critically. "You are unhealthily thin, Miss Parkinson and Mr Malfoy were quite right."

"Well, I think we've gone through why I'm so thin." Hermione said, crossing matchstick arms over her chest. "The food is gross. It's uneatable. It makes me sick so what I eat I lose anyway. Hence…getting thin. Too thin, but I figure I'll stay alive long enough for my kidneys to kill me. So in the end it works out alright." There was a crash in the main infirmary, and Hermione and Pomfrey spun to look at the door.

"Put your shirt back on." Pomfrey said. Hermione did as she was told. "That'll be all for today. Just…be careful going back to the Heads dorm."

"Will do." Hermione slung her tie around her shoulders and tied her jumper around her waist, before slipping out of the room, leaving it empty but for a rather suspicious infirmary matron.

&

The hallways were empty and dark, and Hermione wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she hurried to the Heads Dorm so she could go to bed. All these ruddy confession-sessions were making her absolutely knackered, and it was so bloody cold!

"What's going on?" Hermione jumped and spun around with a shriek, and saw Harry standing by the wall, the invisibility cloak in his hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Why were you in the hospital wing?"

"Oh, I was feeling a bit sick. Went to Pomfrey to see if she could do something about it." Hermione shrugged and starting walking in the direction of the Heads Suite, hoping he'd get the message and leave her alone. He caught up with her and grabbed her arm to pull her back to face him. He drew back slightly at the expression on her face and let her go. She walked off immediately.

"I want to know what's wrong." He demanded, following her.

"Nothing."

"You've been in the hospital wing at least once a day since you got back from summer. Maybe more. If you're sick it's a long term illness." Harry observed.

"So it is." Hermione said curtly. She was only just passing the Hufflepuff dormitories, not nearly close enough to the Heads Suite to get away from Harry.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded, grabbing her arm again and swinging her back to face him.

"Nothing! Let go of me!" she yanked away, and Harry let go of her.

"When did you get so scared of me?" he whispered, his hands dropping to his sides. Hermione stepped back, trying to smile.

"I'm not scared of you, Harry. I just don't like being pulled around." She shrugged. Harry shook his head.

"Walk you back to the Head dorm?"

"Yeah." They walked side by side in silence for a moment, and then Harry looked at her.

"I saw, you know." He said finally. "I followed you this time, because you're always at the hospital wing, I saw the machine, and how thin you were." She nodded but didn't answer. "What wrong with you?"

"I'm sick, Harry. Very sick." She answered softly.

"Are you going to die?" he asked, taking her hand and making her stop. She shook her head.

"Not yet." He smiled at her response.

"Good." They carried on walking, and Hermione stopped at the suit of armour signifying the Head Suite.

"I'll see you later, Harry." She said. He nodded and walked off, swinging the invisibility cloak around his shoulders as he went and disappearing. Hermione stepped into the common room and stopped just in front of the door, stretching her arms out either side of her. The door closed and she waited a second before dropping her arms and moving from the doorway. She didn't want Harry following her again.

The common room, for once, was empty. No Draco, no food. But there was a line of light underneath his door, showing his presence. Hermione took a deep breath, walked up to the door and knocked.

It swung open, revealing a surprisingly rough looking Draco. He looked her over.

"Yes?"

"Can we talk?" She asked timidly. He looked her over again, then stepped back, letting her pass him and enter his room. She perched on his bed and watched him sit back down at his desk. "Draco? What's wrong?"

"I got a hell of a shock this afternoon." He said. "One of my best friends revealed she was very sick. What she didn't say was that she was dying. Not that she needed to, it's clear from looking at her." Hermione's hands covered her mouth and she watched him stand back up and pace in front of her. "What would you do? If it happened to you?" She shook her head, not knowing what to say. He stopped in front of her, taking her wrists and pulling her to standing. "I know why you find it hard to trust me: I've always been a bastard to you. But all you've done this year is lie to me."

"I didn't lie." Hermione whispered, looking away. His fingers latched under her chin and pulled her head back to face him. "I'm dying, Draco. I have a maximum of fifteen months." She shook her head with a sigh. "I don't want to spend my time thinking about it. I don't want you to spend your time thinking about it. That's why I didn't say. I've gone from strong mind-strong body to strong mind-weak body and I _hate_ being weak!" She rested her forehead on his shoulder, the front of his shirt clutched in her hands. "I'm doing the best I can, I really am. I eat as much as I can. But it's never enough. And it's never going to be enough." She looked up at him. "I am dying, Draco, but you are not. I don't want you to be thinking about it. It's why I never said." He shook his head, his fingers trailing across her cheek.

"I've been thinking about it since the day you told me you were sick." He whispered, touching his lips to hers. Her arms twined around his neck as she pressed into the kiss. He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm not stupid. Kidney failure? Without a transplant it's fatal. Your allergy means magic can't cure it. I know you're dying." He kissed her again, turning his head to press his lips against her cheekbones, her nose, her forehead, her eyes. She just stood there, her hands against his neck and her eyes closed, feeling the whole experience was slightly surreal. "And, actually, I don't want you to die." Hermione smiled a little and he pulled back.

"I'm not keen on the idea either, I can tell you." She promised. "But without a transplant…"

"I'm sensing a circular conversation here." Draco said with a small smile. "So what do we do?"

"How do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Well, you're still alive, more or less, so you're doing something right. What do you do, and we'll help." Hermione frowned a little at him, then nodded.

"There isn't a lot." Hermione shrugged. "I go to dialysis, eat spam-imitation. Actually, the one thing you could do is remind me to take my allergy potions. I continue to forget and if Snape found out he'd kill me." Draco nodded.

"Where are they?" He asked, taking her hand and tugging her towards the door.

"Bathroom cabinet." Hermione said, letting him pull her into the bathroom. She pulled the the three short green bottles. "I'm meant to have a spoonful three times a day." Draco nodded, picking up the bottles and hefting them in his hands.

"Hermione, these are full." He said pointedly. She looked away. "Did you ever even start to take these potions?" he demanded, setting them down and taking her shoulders in his hands. "Well?"

"No! Okay?" Hermione burst out. She sighed. "No. At the beginning I was being obstinant, I didn't want to believe I needed them, and then I started to think that starting later wouldn't help anyway, and eventually I just forgot all about them." She winced under Draco's heavy stare.

"Sometimes, you completely shock me with your stupidity." He said coolly. "Forgot? Hermione, we are trying to keep you alive and you constantly try and stop us. Do you _want_ to die?"

"Anything's better than this!" She shot back. He swallowed and looked away, releasing her.

"Fine. I'm sorry I interfered." He turned and started to walk away, and she hurried after him, grabbing his hand.

"No! Look, Draco, I'm sorry." She said. He turned and looked down at her.

"If you want to die, I don't see any point in myself or Pansy helping you live." He said flatly.

"I don't want to die, Draco. I just…I'm so tired of being sick!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exhasperation. "So tired of watching what I eat, so tired of nearly starving to death. So tired of being allergic to magic, of all things! Even if I survived this, I couldn't live in the magical world…making my education after the age of eleven obsolete and my therefore my level of Muggle education completely useless in the Muggle world. So what is the point?"

"There are potions that people with magic allergies use to reduce the effects of their allergies." Draco said. He rolled his eyes. "They're probably what are in these bottles. I have never seen you back down from a challenge, Hermione." He said quietly. "And now you're just going to give up."

"I'm very tired." She whispered. "Of everything. And so disappointed…I could have done anything with my grades, anything I wanted. And now the only thing I can realistically do is wait to die. How am I meant to come to terms with that?" Draco shook his head.

"I don't know. And even if I did, I bet it's a personal thing. But Hermione, you have to try. People live past their deadline all the time."

"A lot of people die before their deadline too." Hermione said drily, her equilibrium slowly returning and the usual feeling of panic fading.

"I bet they're the ones that don't take their medicine." Draco said. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look, just…try. Okay? Try to stay alive. If not for yourself then for me and Pansy."

"You think I want this?" She asked.

"Well, you aren't helping yourself much." Draco pointed out.

"Thank you, Doctor Draco." Hermione said. "I promise to take all my medicine like a good girl if you promise to stop pestering me. How's that?" Draco rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Sure." She grinned.

"Fab. Right. I have homework to do…so are we okay?" Draco nodded, though his eyes were serious.

"We're good."

"Alright. I'll see you later then." She grinned and headed out of the room.

"G?" She turned, eyebrows raised.

"Promise me you'll try." He said. She nodded with a small smile.

"I promise."

&


	10. Chapter 10

&

"Doesn't look good, does it?" Hermione asked, leaning back into the pillows and looking at the expressions on Sam and Madame Pomfrey's faces. "So? Hit me."

"Three months." Sam said. Hermione's eyes widened.

"What!" There was a long pause as she tried to formulate a question that didn't involve a lot of swearing. "How the…but I'm meant to have another twelve!" She looked past Sam to where Draco leaned against the wall, arms crossed and face blank, Pansy sitting at his feet, her steepled fingers pressed against her mouth. "And I was doing better!"

"I think it was a case of too little, too late." Pomfrey said gently. Hermione looked from her to Draco and back again.

"Why? I've been taking my potions!"

"Only for the last three months, Hermione." Pansy said softly. "They haven't had a chance to work." Hermione gritted her teeth, swallowing down sobs.

"Madame Pomfrey, I think we should leave them." Sam said, glancing at the three teenagers. The nurse nodded, following him from the room and shutting the door behind her. Hermione looked at Draco.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. He nodded, mouth tight. He didn't say anything, and they all stayed silent for several minutes. Then he suddenly crossed to her bed, sitting beside her and hugging her tightly to him. The tears she'd been holding back started falling thick and fast, and Pansy joined them on the bed, gripping Hermione's hand.

"It's gonna be okay." Draco said tightly into her hair. "I'm gonna fix this." She shook her head, biting her lip.

"I tried." She said. "I did. I promise." Draco pulled away abruptly, his face white, eyes blazing and a pink flush high on both cheeks.

"I'll be back." He said, kissing her forehead and striding from the room.

"He hates me." Hermione whispered, her heart sinking further. Pansy shook her head.

"He's upset." She said gently. "He loves you and you're dying. And he's never been good with emotions." Hermione could only nod, resting her head on Pansy's shoulder.

"What am I gonna do?" she asked. Pansy shook her head, one hand rising to stroke Hermione's hair.

"Skydive? Bungee jump? Kick Mrs Norris?" Hermione laughed shakily.

"Thank you." She said softly. Pansy nodded.

"Anytime." There was a long pause.

"Hermione?" Sam came back into the room, Draco and Madame Pomfrey in tow. "We may have a solution." Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"A cure for death? I _am_ impressed."

"A transplant, you idiot." Draco said flatly. Hermione looked from him to Sam then back again.

"No." She said flatly, shaking her head decisively. Sam's eyebrows shot up.

"No?" He asked curiously.

"No." Hermione repeated. "You need your kidneys." She said to Draco. "Has this," She waved her hand around the room, "Taught you nothing?"

"I don't need both." Draco said evenly. "And you need one. It's a fairly logical arrangement."

"How do you even know if we're compatible?" Hermione asked, feeling a knife edge of panic shoot through her. She didn't want Draco doing this for her. If she rejected it he'd feel guilty, if she died sooner because her body didn't want his help he'd be destroyed. She knew it because she'd feel the same way in his place.

"I'm not allergic to magic." Draco said. "We just checked, just did the tests. Compared to all your test results my kidney should be fine."

"But the magic-" Hermione shook her head.

"We'd do it the muggle way." Draco argued.

"Not a chance." Hermione said, pulling the needles out of her arms and pressing against the holes. She swung her legs out of bed and started to rise. "You are not going under the knife for me. Ever." She shifted her weight off the bed and onto her feet and was immediately struck by vertigo, and the world spun as she fell. He caught her easily.

"Let me do this." He whispered, his fingertips sliding over her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ears. "I can help you."

"If I reject it you'll feel guilty." Hermione whispered, looking up into his eyes. "I know you."

"And I know you." He replied. She waited for a further clarification but he stayed silent, watching her. And she knew that was all he had to say to her. She sighed.

"Fine."

&

Draco didn't have to go under the knife for her. His kidney was magically removed and then transplanted into her, her ruined kidneys cut out. Sam performed the operation with a couple of his colleagues who also specialised in Muggle-Magic medicine. Draco was unconscious in the hospital wing and Pansy sat quietly by his side, unusually demure in a long sleeved pink top and jeans, a far cry from her more usual risky clothing.

Rumour spread around the school that Draco had been struck down by a mysterious disease and Pansy, his ever devoted follower/worshipper/girlfriend depending on which rumours you believed, was pining at his side, keeping a constant vigil. The Head Girl, too, was conspicuously absent from meals and lessons.

And Harry and Ron weren't stupid.

Pansy had been bracing herself for their inevitably loud and dramatic appearance. And when it came she turned wearily and faced them.

"She finally kicked his ass, didn't she?" Ron said joyfully. "Where is she? I need to congratulate her."

"It's done, Pansy." Sam came into the room, stripping off bloody gloves. "How is he?" Pansy nodded at Ron and Harry and Sam tipped his head in their direction. "Hello."

"He's fine." Pansy said. "At least I think he is. He's not woken up yet and he's still breathing."

"I gave him enough sedative to fell a horse." Sam said. "And you?"

"Just tired. She alright?"

"They're bringing her through now." Sam said. "It went well, as far as we can tell. Now all we can do is wait to see whether she accepts or rejects it."

"Accepts or rejects what?" Harry asked. Just then the other doctors wheeled the gurney with Hermione on it through the door from the makeshift operation room to the infirmary, the machines surrounding her beeping regularly.

"You fucking bitch. You've killed her." Ron snarled. He lunged for Pansy but Harry jerked him back, his green eyes fixed on Hermione's pale form.

"She's alive, Ron." Harry said. "The machines show that."

"All I see is her." Ron snapped. "And him." He glared at Draco.

"It's a transplant." Harry breathing, it suddenly clicking. "Malfoy gave her whatever she needed." Pansy nodded. "She lied to me." he whispered.

"Oh please. You're nothing special, she lied to all of us." Pansy said coolly.

"What the hell is-"

"She has acute kidney failure." Pansy said. "Draco gave her a kidney. She's allergic to magic so she had to have the operation the muggle way." Harry and Ron stared at her and she shrugged.

"She's allergic to-" Ron asked incredulously

"The train." Harry interrupted. "When you caught her charm bracelet with that spell."

"Oh god." Ron winced and closed his eyes, going pale.

"Mr Weasley?" Sam put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"I could have killed her." Ron said.

"Not with a small spell like the one you used." Pansy said. "She goes to a magic school. She has some resiliance. Not much though. And she's been getting worse."

"She told me she was sick." Harry said. "But not that she would die. I asked her and she said-" He stopped suddenly.

"What did she say?" Ron asked quietly, hurt that Harry hadn't told him this. Neither of them had understood Hermione's behaviour this year, but they had at least shared what they knew.

"Not yet." Harry finished in a whisper. "Damnit, I thought she just meant that it was inevitable. The way it is for everyone! Not that she just wasn't dead at that moment of time."

"Well, she's not dead now, either." Sam said briskly. "And if this goes well, she might not be any time in the near future, either. So why don't we all relax and get some sleep. Especially you, Pansy."

"I don't want to leave them." Pansy protested.

"I won't leave them alone, Pans." Sam said. "Go." She rolled her eyes but went. Harry watched her go.

"That's less of a fight than I was expecting." He commented. Sam shrugged.

"I'm her dad, I have a fair amount of clout in making her do what she needs to do." Ron stared.

"You're Michael Parkinson?" He asked incredulously.

"No, I'm Samuel Rickles. But I am Pansy's father, howevermuch estranged." Ron shook his head.

"Nevermind. Forget I asked." Sam nodded.

"Of course." There was an awkward pause.

"So Malfoy gave her a kidney?" Harry asked eventually. "How'd she talk him into that?"

"Actually, she failed to talk him out of it and he insisted. Perhaps you underestimate just how close they are."

"Well, if she actually spoke to us…" Ron muttered darkly.

"That's exactly what she says." Sam commented, "About you." Harry and Ron looked at each other and then away. "Why don't you boys go get dinner." Sam suggested gently. "Neither Hermione nor Malfoy is going to wake up any time soon." Harry nodded slowly and tugged at Ron's arm, who was staring at Hermione. Ron eventually followed Harry out the room, leaving the infirmary in soft silence.

&

Hermione woke to a feeling of pain. It wasn't blinding, just a dull insistent throbbing in her stomach and lower back. It felt, she realised with a wince, just how it had felt before she collapsed that day when she had been shopping.

"Hey there." She opened her eyes slowly and saw Draco standing above her, Pansy behind him. Hovering the background was Sam. Draco smiled at her, lifting his hand to stroke her hair off her forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got hit by a truck." Hermione said roughly, her throat dry. "Water?"

"Here." Pansy passed the glass forward and Hermione took a cautious sip. The liquid felt good. "You've been asleep nearly twenty four hours. We were starting to get worried."

"I gave you enough sedative to fell a horse." Sam said, approaching the bed. "I didn't want your allergy to play up in the middle of the operation." Hermione nodded, head reeling.

"So…it worked?" Draco grinned.

"Yeah, it did. You now have a working kidney. And so far, you havent rejected it." Hermione smiled weakly, not wanting to point out that kidneys didn't always fail straight away.

"That's good." She said. There was a long pause.

"Potter and Weasley came to see you." Pansy spoke up. "When they put two and two together."

"How long did it take?" Hermione asked with a small smile. Draco grinned and Pansy smirked.

"Too long." The Slytherins turned to face Ron and Harry, who had just stepped through the door. "How're you feeling?"

"Rough." Hermione said, a little confused as to why, now, they were suddenly showing interest. They were nearly at easter, for crying out loud, and yet here they were. "You?" Ron grinned, crossing to the side of the bed beside her and took her other hand.

"We're doing better than you." He said. Hermione looked confusedly up at Draco, who nodded, bending to press a light kiss on Hermione's forehead.

"We'll see you in a bit." He said softly. "Give us a yell if you need anything." He took Pansy's hand and led the reluctant Slytherin away from the bed, giving the Gryffindors some privacy. Harry took Draco's place beside her, and the boys looked at each other across Hermione.

"Well," Ron started a little awkwardly. "Nice set up you got here. Could use a little decorating, but-"

"Ron." Hermione interrupted. "I don't mean to be rude…but why are you here? This is the first time all term you've shown any interest in me at all."

"We're here to try and clear up a couple of misunderstandings that have been distracting us all for the last couple of terms." Harry said, sitting in the chair beside her bed. Hermione raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"You thought we were ignoring you." Ron said. "Over the summer, I mean. We kinda thought the same."

"But I sent you letters!" Hermione protested. Ron nodded.

"We know now. Thing is, Harry and I were at auror camp all summer, so we couldn't mail out. What we didn't know was mail couldn't come in, either, except from direct family. So we got letters from Ginny and mum, but nothing from you. And then on the train...we came to find you, to work out what had happened, and we saw you being all cozy with Malfoy and Parkinson, and we kinda jumped to conclusions." Ron finished sheepishly.

"You two are ridiculous." Hermione said. "Just because I don't send you any letters, though I did despite the fact I needn't bother since you never write back _anyway_, and then you guys find me being civil to Slytherins, you assume I've turned to the Dark Side and abandoned six years worth of friendship because…because why?" She looked at them expectantly and Harry and Ron exchanged vaguely panicked glances. To be fair, they hadn't really thought this through as well as Hermione was now doing. They had jumped to conclusions and pretty much left it at that.

"Well, we never really thought that much about it." Harry admitted. Hermione gave him a look of disdain so reminiscent of Malfoy that Harry nearly went for his wand.

"Never really thought about it?" She asked. "So…while I was wondering why you guys hated me all of a sudden, you two were like, she's gone, lets move on with our respective girlfriends? Thanks, guys. You bring me bundles of joy."

"Well, you weren't exactly forthcoming either." Ron said sullenly. Hermione glared.

"I had other things on my mind!" She exclaimed. "My impending death, for a start. The decision of whether to bunk NEWTS because there was no point in sitting them or do I do them just for appearances? Trying to keep the fact I'm sick and starving to death a secret from the school population at large factored pretty big into it too. At that stage I really didn't have time to worry about how you felt when you looked pretty happy leeching off your girlfriends!"

"And you lied to me about that." Harry added. "I asked if you were sick, and you said –" he stopped.

"I said that I was sick, very sick. And when you asked in I would die I said not yet. Which is true. So, no, I did not lie to you." Hermione said. Harry sighed.

"You misled me."

"Yeah, well, join the club." Hermione said, waving her hand about. "I misled everyone I could. This is the kind of situation I wanted to avoid!"

"We're not here to fight, Hermione." Ron said soothingly, grabbing the hand she was waving about and holding on. "We came to say we're sorry, and we wish we'd acted better. Then maybe you could have talked to us about this. Maybe you wouldn't have had to do it alone."

"I didn't!" Hermione snapped, snatching her hand back. "Draco and Pansy were there for me the whole time."

"How about this," Ron tried again. "You wouldn't have had to do it feeling like we'd abandoned you." She nodded.

"That's more like it." She smiled and Ron gave a relieved smile in return.

"So we're okay?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded.

"We're better, at least." Harry smiled.

"Good." There was a short silence. "Oh! Malfoy and Parkinson were caught doing the dirty last night!" He looked at her and quickly amended that. "Seniors. Malfoy and Parkinson's dads were caught in the middle of a serious dark rite. They're at Azkaban now." Hermione stared.

"They _are_? Ohmigod, why didn't they tell me?" Harry shrugged.

"Didn't want to worry you maybe?" He suggested. Ron sighed.

"Well done, mate. Now you've worried her." Harry winced.

"Wow. Talk about stupid."

"So what's going to happen?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing, G. Stop panicking." Draco and Pansy strode back into the room. "We have to go testify to their evilness in two weeks. Then they'll go to jail, we'll come back here, and all will be well. Besides that we're not involved."

"Except we inherit their estates." Pansy said gleefully as the pair came to a stop at the foot of Hermione's bed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we inherit their estates. But as for the trial itself, apart from our testimony we aren't really involved."

"That's good." Hermione said with a relieved sigh. "NEWTS are soon and you do not want to be dealing with that in the middle. It's a good thing I decided to study for them anyway." she added thoughtfully. Draco grinned, grabbing her ankle and shaking it gently.

"That's my girl." He said. "Sam says you have another week, maybe two, in bed, and then it's back to life as normal." Hermione nodded with a smile.

"That's good. I am so ready to eat real food its unbelievable." Pansy grinned.

"Dad says you have to take it slow, but yeah, soon you'll be able to say, goodbye spam, hello steak. It will be a momentous day." Hermione stuck her tongue out at the Slytherin, who blew her a kiss.

"Okay folks, time to let Hermione here get some rest, so she can get back on her feet." Sam said, shooing everyone from her bed. Draco stayed a second longer, speaking quickly and quietly to her before kissing her nose and following the others out. Harry watched Draco pass him.

"What?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.

"What did you say to her?" Harry demanded.

"That is none of your business." Draco replied evenly, walking on.

"What did you say to her?" Harry repeated louder.

"What Draco is to Hermione is between them." Pansy appeared beside Draco. "But they're good friends, Potter. So he can say whatever he likes to her." She smirked. "He knows she'd kick his ass if she didn't like what she was hearing." Draco nodded with a one-sided shrug.

"Move on, Potter." He said with a knowing smirk, before walking off.

&

Hermione improved much quicker than anyone expected. By day three she was sat up in bed, wincing at the spam-imitation she still had to eat (though she ate a lot more now) and demanding her homework from the classes she was missing. By the end of the first week she was making tentative rounds of the infirmary with Draco's help. By the middle of the second week she was doing it by herself, under careful supervision. She still felt sick though, her stomach turning sometimes and that same dull ache in her lower stomach. When she spoke to Sam about it he looked concerned but after a few tests said it was likely her insides were still healing and that she should stop moving about so much.

Fat chance.

Despite the odd feeling of pain, which she attributed to the surgery, and the odd bit of sickness, which she attributed to her allergy, she felt better than she ever had. She wasn't so tired anymore, and eating didn't make her as sick as it used to. Draco watched with barely concealed glee while Pansy teased her by bringing in food she couldn't yet eat, as an incentive to get well. Harry and Ron came too, but it seemed that, despite the fact they had made up, there wasn't so much to talk about anymore, that they didn't have so much in common. So when they came things became a little awkward.

It was only the morning that Draco and Pansy left that she began to feel sick again. Her stomach hurt more, and her appetite disappeared. Sam was worried, she could see it at the back of his eyes even though he kept smiling. Ron and Harry were completely taken in though, and carried on their chatting all the way through lunch before heading off to potions. When they had gone, Hermione grabbed Sam's hand.

"Sam-"

"I don't know, Hermione." He said flatly. She looked at him steadily and he sighed. "But I can guess."

"I'm rejecting it." She said dully, her hand dropping from his wrist. "Dammit." Sam sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed. There was a long silence and then Hermione looked up. "How long?"

"I can't tell you. Could be a day, could be a week."

"Either way it's going to hurt." Hermione finished. "Your best guess?"

"A day? Maybe two. I'm worried that the surgery weakened you. And the sudden responsibility shifted onto your new kidney, no matter how gradually we tried to do it-"

"Can you bring my parents here?" Hermione asked, interrupting his musings. He nodded.

"And I'll recall Draco and Pansy."

"No." Sam stared at her in surprise, and she slowly shook her head. "No. This is something they have to do if they're ever going to be rid of their dads. If they're ever going to be able to move on without them. Without their testimony you know both men will get away with it."

"Hermione, you're _dying_." Sam said pleadingly. "Quicker than before. There's no time for grand gestures."

"You don't get it." Hermione struggled to sit up on her elbows, her brown eyes boring into Sam. "This isn't a grand gesture. They have to do this. I'm a sideline. We said goodbye this morning."

"I doubt it was the kind of goodbye they'd say to a dying friend." Sam commented. Hermione shook her head.

"That isn't the goodbye I want to hear. Get my parents, Sam." He nodded, leaning forward and kissing her forehead before heading quickly out of the infirmary to arrange it."

&

The carriage carrying Draco and Pansy back to school arrived eactly three days after it had left, amid torrential rain and a complete lack of sun that made it unbelievably dark for the time of year.

"I don't want to go into the rain." Pansy whinged. "I hate the rain." Draoc grinned, he'd heard that particular complaint a million times of the years. He stared out of the window, preparing himself for the flight across the rain drench courtyard. Suddenly they saw two black cloaked figures fly out of the door and head for the carriage, jerking the door open.

"What are you waiting for? There's no _time_!" Harry's voice was a shout over the downpour but both Pansy and Draco heard the urgency behind it. They flew past him into the castle, heading up the stairs without pausing. They blew into the infirmary, and skidded to halt, dripping and staring at the adults clustered around Hermione's bed in fear. McGonagall, Dumbledore, Pomfrey and Sam were all there, plus two others that Draco didn't know. But it was the look on their faces that really scared him.

"Oh god." He whispered, knowing why they were there.

"She's rejecting it." Pansy sighed. Draco felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He was absently aware of Harry and Ron appearing behind him, but all his attention was on Sam who stepped forward to meet them.

"Thank god." Sam said. "I didn't know if you'd make it. She's been holding on for you."

"She was fine when she left." Was all that Draco could manage. "What happened?"

"Her body rejected the kidney. She's been getting steadily worse since then, and nothing I can do can stop it." Draco glared.

"So you're going to let her die?" He snapped.

"I'm not going to let her do anything." Sam retorted. "I don't have a choice!"

"Draco." H3er voice was barely a whisper. He pushed past Sam to get to her side.

"I'm here." He said quickly. "It's gonna be okay."

"Draco." He winced. This was meant to have worked, dammit! "I'm sorry."

"You're being ridiculous." Draco said. "Everything'll be fine. If you've held on this long, you can keep doing it." He was aware his voice was starting to sound desperate but didn't care.

"Draco." Her voice cut through his rambling. "They're using magic to keep me alive. I had to wait to see if it went okay."

"What?" Draco's head jerked up and he looked at Sam for confirmation. Sam nodded.

"But it in itself is killing me, albeit slower than my kidneys. So…"

"Don't even start with goodbyes." He said angrily.

"Draco. Honey." Pansy stepped forward and tugged gently on his arm. "Can I?" Draco reluctantly let her push him away, leaving her standing alone by the sick girl's bed.

"Hey." Pansy could hear Hermione's voice starting to fail her, and Hermione's eyes were starting to take on a glazed look.

"Hey there." Pansy said, sitting by the edge of the bed and keeping her head low to hear what Hermione was saying. "You wanted to wait for us, huh?"

"How'd it go?" Hermione asked.

"Well." Pansy said, feeling tears rising at the back of her throat. "Both are in for life. Our mums are stewards of the estate until we're eighteen."

"That's good."

"Thank you for waiting for us." Pansy whispered, tears starting to floor her eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore." Hermione reached up and rubbed at the tears starting to slide down Pansy's cheek. "Don't cry. It's okay."

"We're meant to have more time." Pansy said helplessly. Hermione smiled.

"I enjoyed what we did." She coughed, her entire body shaking. "Thank you for being so wonderful. Thank you for not living up to my expectations."

"You expected me to be a back-stabbing Slytherin?" Pansy asked with a small smile. Hermione nodded, her eyes drifting shut. "Hermione!"

"Draco." She whispered. Pansy beckoned frantically and Draco appeared instantly.

"Be quick." Pansy said, squeezing his shoulder and stepping back.

"Hey." Draco said softly. "What's this about you leaving me?"

"I…tried." Hermione whispered, her voice rasping more and her breathing becoming irregular. "I waited as long as I could."

"Hermione, please." Draco whispered. She smiled, her hand going to his hair. "Don't."

"It's okay, Draco." She said. Draco bit his lip so viciously it bled.

"It's not okay!" He snarled. "You can't die!"

"I'm not afraid, Draco." She said.

"I am." He said softly. She smiled, touching his face with trembling fingers. "You can't die!" He insisted. She smiled again. Her eyes were far away, like she was looking at something very distant over his shoulder. "Hermione! I love you, you can't die!" Her eyes suddenly met his and they were clear and unafraid. She smiled again.

"I love you." She said quietly, and closed her eyes, her hand falling to her side. The machines she was attached too started beeping and Draco yelped for Sam.

"I'm sorry." Sam said gently, knowing even before he approached what that ominous single tone beep meant. "I'm sorry." Draco nodded, kissing the back of her hand softly before laying it on her chest.

And then he turned and walked away.

&


	11. Epilogue

&

Epilogue

The funeral was quiet, simple, the way Hermione would have wanted it. Harry, Ron, Draco and Pansy were there at the front, with rows of silent students behind them, all waiting to say goodbye to the Head Girl.

How well she had hidden the illness.

Ron and Harry's respective relationships with their girlfriends had ended, coming under too much strain with the boys reunion with their friend, and then the death of said friend as well. Draco and Pansy held hands, both sets of knuckles white as they held tightly so the other wouldn't leave. It also drew their attention from the tears welling in their throat and eyes. Even now, they couldn't show emotion. Slytherin to the core.

Draco read a short, simple eulogy which had everyone but him and Pansy and a few other token Slytherins wiping their eyes. It hit Harry and Ron in the chest…how well their enemy knew their friend. How close they had gotten and how much they had shared. They felt jealous of the link between the head students and also like they had missed something important.

But Hermione would have been proud of the overwhelming message that the presence of the Slytherins had announced. After all, she was a Gryffindor. Definitely of the white hat variety. The Slytherins should have been celebrating her death, not mourning it.

It said that inter-house union was possible. It said that hope was near.

Dumbledore was pleased and he knew Hermione would have been happy.

Finis

&

So? Did you like it? I wasn't sure if I managed the right tone for the funeral. I wanted it to be sad, but not overwhelming. After all, everyone that matters knew Hermione was going to die from the beginning, so it wasn't a huge shock. As for everyone out there who wanted to live (yes, Harriet, I'm talking about you), well, she had kidney failure.

I also want to dedicate this story to my friend Martha, whose best friend Iain died far too young of kidney failure himself. She's one of the strongest people I know.


End file.
